


Don't Blink

by paperstorm



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Time, M/M, OT4 Bromance, POV Alternating, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 06:42:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2498360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorm/pseuds/paperstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Suddenly Luke’s skin is itchy underneath and his clothes don’t feel right. He’s sweaty and uncomfortable with how good it feels having Michael pressed up against him. It isn’t supposed to feel like this. Luke doesn’t know why he never realized that until just now. This thing they do, where they’re always in each other’s space, always touching, always wrapped around each other – it’s how Luke should be with a girl. Not his best friend. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Get drunk with me,” Michael says, tossing a beer at Luke and smiling when Luke fumbles it and nearly drops it on the ground. He flops down next to Luke on the couch, close enough for their arms to touch, and twists the cap off the bottle in his hands.  
  
“Why?” Luke asks.  
  
“Why not?” Michael tips the bottle to his lips and takes a swig. He doesn’t even really like beer, it kind of tastes like bread that’s gone bad, but it’s all they have.  
  
“Where’s Calum and Ashton?”  
  
“I don’t know. Out.”  
  
“Where did they go?”  
  
“I said I don’t know.”  
  
“Why would they leave without telling us?”  
  
Michael pokes him in the ribs. “What, you don’t wanna hang out with just me?”  
  
Luke smiles a little and shakes his head. “You’re alright, I guess.”  
  
Michael laughs. “Wow. Asshole. I thought we were bestest friends forever.”  
  
Luke laughs too. He twists the cap off his own bottle and drinks from it. “We are.”  
  
“Good. Drink.”  
  
“I am drinking. Why do you wanna be drunk so bad?”  
  
Michael shrugs. “I don’t, really. Just wanna hang out with you.”  
  
“We hang out all the time. It’s kinda all we ever do,” Luke points out. “I can’t remember the last time I was away from you for more than like five minutes.”  
  
Michael drains the rest of his beer in two long swallows and gets up for another one. He manages to balance four in his hands, so he won’t have to get up again so soon. “I know, but like, just us, I mean. Things have been so crazy lately, I feel like it’s been forever since we did anything just the two of us.”  
  
“Aw.” Luke grins at him and takes the bottle Michael offers even though his first is still half-full in his other hand. “I miss you too, Mikey.”  
  
Michael laughs at himself. “Shut up. I do, though. I love everything we’re doing now, but don’t you just … sometimes I miss making those dumb videos with you at my house. When it was just us.”  
  
“Yeah. I know what you mean. Those were good times.”  
  
“It’s so strange to think about ourselves back then, isn’t it? Like, a couple of dumb kids, how crazy we were for thinking we even had a shot at makin’ it. I don’t feel like I even know that guy anymore.”  
  
“You’re still him.” Luke finishes his first beer and starts on the second one. He drinks from it and then slouches down on the couch to rest his head on the back of it. His leg is against Michael’s, and it’s making Michael feel overheated. Although that could be the alcohol. “You’re still loud and uncoordinated and addicted to video games. Now you’re just a rock-star too.”  
  
“Thanks,” Michael says sarcastically, smiling when Luke chuckles. “You still have absolutely no cool. How you’re our front man, I have no idea.”  
  
“You think it should’ve been you?”  
  
“I think it should’ve been _Calum_. He’s the only one of us that has any game.”  
  
“I think he’d take that as an insult.”  
  
Michael hums in agreement. “You have the best voice, though.”  
  
“It’s not better than yours.”  
  
“Yeah, it is,” Michael argues. “Way better.”  
  
“I don’t think so, but thanks.”  
  
Michael opens a third bottle. His skin is starting to vibrate and the room blurs just a little. “He looks hot with that bass on him, doesn’t he?”  
  
“Calum?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Luke giggles about it a little, but agrees. “Yeah, he does. Way cooler than I look.”  
  
“I think it’s the blond,” Michael teases, reaching up and flicking at Luke’s sky-scraper of hair. “And the blue eyes. You’re like a little fluffy bunny, dressed up for Halloween as a punk rocker.”  
  
Luke makes an offended noise and smacks Michael’s leg. “What the hell does that make you, then? Remember that time we lost you in a hydrangea bush?”  
  
“Having colored hair makes me awesome.”  
  
“Not when it’s lavender.”  
  
“Well it isn’t anymore.”  
  
“Yeah, now it’s blond, like mine,” Luke points out.  
  
“But it’s bleached. That makes it hardcore.”  
  
Luke shakes his head and laughs again. “Your rules make no sense. Do we have anything other than beer? The amount we’ll have to drink to be drunk, I’m gonna need to pee like seventeen times.”  
  
“I don’t think so, but I didn’t look that hard.” Michael gets up and heads for the kitchen, and Luke follows him. They rummage through cupboards and Michael finds a half-empty bottle of whiskey left over from the last time they had people over, shoved to the back and forgotten.  
  
Michael holds it up and raises his eyebrows in question, and Luke shrugs and kind of half nods, but warns, “If I’m puking tomorrow, you’re cleaning it up.”  
  
“It’s so cute you think I would ever do that,” Michael tells him, as he finds two clean glasses and fills them.  
  
“Are we just gonna drink it? Like we’re in a biker bar?”  
  
“Unless you wanna mix it with milk or orange juice. That’s all we’ve got.”  
  
Luke grimaces, but seems to decide straight whiskey is preferable to mixing it with either of those things. He lifts the glass to his lips and sips, coughing a little as it goes down rough. Michael doesn’t like the taste of whiskey any better than beer, but he likes the way it warms him from the inside out as it slips down his throat.  
  
Two glasses later and Luke’s flushed and disheveled and rambling, and it’s more adorable than it has any right to be. Michael is buzzing inside, loose and happy, and Luke is burning fever-hot pressed up against him on the couch. He can sort of smell Luke’s skin, sweat and something else that’s just _him_. When Luke shifts, his whole side rubs against Michael’s, and it makes his stomach feel weird.  
  
“Everyone’s hot, though,” Luke says suddenly, as if continuing a conversation they were just having, even though they weren’t. Maybe Luke was having it in his own head. He does that sober, sometimes.  
  
“Who is?”  
  
“You guys. Like what we were saying before, about Calum with his bass.”  
  
Michael giggles. “That was like an hour ago.”  
  
“But I’ve been thinking about it. And like, you all are. You with your guitar and Ash behind the drums. You’re all hot.”  
  
“You’re weird tonight.” And he’s so, so close. Michael’s palms are sweating.  
  
“Don’t you think so?”  
  
“I guess. You’re all good-looking dudes, so.”  
  
“But you are too,” Luke insists, his eyes all wide and sincere, like this is important. Michael sort of wants to kiss him. Then he sort of wants to run away. “You’re hot, Michael. Your hair and your face and everything. And you’re like … the most rock. You know? You make us punk.”  
  
Michael swallows. Luke’s face is close enough to his that if he leaned in just a little bit, he could do it. He could kiss him. His lips are right there, it would be easy. “Doesn’t the music do that?”  
  
“Yeah, but like, it’s you, too. Like people see us and they think we’re like a boy band but then you’ve got your tongue out all the time so we can’t be.”  
  
He isn’t making sense, and Michael’s barely listening anyway. His stomach is churning, and things are happening in his pants that definitely, absolutely should not be happening while he’s with Luke. “My tongue makes us punk,” he repeats, trying to work out what it is Luke’s attempting to say. He’s not sure Luke even knows himself.  
  
“I need to go to bed,” Luke slurs, out of nowhere.  
  
Michael’s confused, the booze making him sluggish. “What?”  
  
“M’drunk. And I’m weird, and you’re right. I’m weird.”  
  
He stands up onto shaky legs, tries to step over Michael’s feet but trips on them instead, and tumbles. Michael sort of half catches him, and he ends up in Michael’s lap, his thighs bracing Michael’s hips. His hands find the back of the couch before he completely crashes into Michael, but then he’s there, _right_ there, in Michael’s space, and he’s staring down at Michael with his eyes all dark and shiny and Michael’s heart is beating so fast he’s worried it’s going to break right out of his ribcage. Luke blinks at him, his lips parted and his breathing heavy, and then something just snaps between them and they’re kissing, Luke’s hands on Michael’s face, Michael’s shoved up the back of his shirt, splayed over his sweat-damp skin. He goes from zero to wanting Luke so badly it hurts, maybe faster than anyone’s ever gone from anything to anything.  
  
He pushes Luke off him and stands, and they stumble to the bedroom without detaching their lips, and Luke is a good kisser even though it’s messy because they’re drunk and horny and damn it, why is this the first time Michael’s ever kissed him before when they could have been doing this for _years_. He tears at his clothes, and Luke’s too, no plan or coordination other than the intense need to be naked _now_ and have Luke be naked to so he can see him and touch him and make him feel things. Skinny jeans are so fucking hard to get off in a hurry and Michael is never wearing anything but baggy sweats ever again. Or maybe those tear-away pants, the ones with the snaps down the sides. Those would be good. He could have those off in three seconds.  
  
They tumble onto the bed together, finally, _finally_ free of clothes, and Michael drapes himself over Luke and kisses him until they can’t breathe while he rocks his hips down into Luke’s body, his hard cock sliding against Luke’s, and Michael’s done things before with dicks that weren’t his but it’s never felt like this. He feels crazy, like he wants to eat Luke alive and at the same time package him up in bubble wrap and blankets so no one can ever hurt him. Luke moans beneath him, a pretty, broken sound that might have been an attempt at Michael’s name, at grips at Michael’s back, rutting up against him as hard as Michael’s rutting down. It’s sloppy and desperate and _perfect_ , and Michael never wants to do this with anyone else ever again for the rest of his life.  
  
Luke is so beautiful when he comes it should be on postcards, eyes fluttering closed and swollen lips parted on a moan that never makes it’s way out of his mouth. He slicks the space between them with hot and wet and slippery and Michael swears and buries his face in Luke’s shoulder, rocking against him until his gut clenches and he loses it too, adding to the mess between their stomachs.  
  
Luke is whispering his name, quick, needy little rasps of, “Michael. Michael,” and pawing at him. Michael’s brain is starting to turn its lights out, a mixture of alcohol and post-orgasm haze and the fact that it’s the middle of the night conspiring to knock him out and take him away from the moment, from Luke, who needs _something_ from him but Michael’s too out-of-it to know what that is. He slides his arms around Luke and holds him, cuddles him like a teddy bear, and Luke calms; melts into Michael’s arms and falls asleep a few seconds before Michael does.  
  
*           *           *  
  
Luke wakes up slowly, fog in his head and his whole body thrumming in dull pain like he was hit by a car a week ago and hasn’t quite recovered. He’s confused for a moment before it all comes rushing back to him – beer, cheap whiskey, Michael, kissing, touching, all of it. It’s a slight blur but Luke remembers enough. His stomach turns, and it’s maybe only half because of the hangover.  
                       
He can hear someone moving around in the bathroom, and he’s not sure whether or not he wants it to be Michael. No, on second thought, he definitely hopes it isn’t. He doesn’t want to see Michael right now. It would make what happened real. Maybe if Luke just lies here for the rest of his life, what happened won’t ever really catch up with him. Maybe if he believes hard enough, it will erase the entire night and Luke can somehow magically go back to the person he was before he knew what Michael’s lips tasted like, what his eyes look like dark and hooded, what he sounds like when he comes.  
  
Luke is going to be sick. This is his fault. He did this, he pushed himself at Michael because he was drunk and needy and so damn stupid, and Michael didn’t push back because he’s Michael, and he’s sweet and loyal and always wants to make everyone happy. Luke took advantage of him, of the fact that Michael wouldn’t know how to say no. He’s never going to forgive himself for this. Never.  
  
The person quietly enters the bedroom and Luke freezes and closes his eyes, tries to steady the slow rise-and-fall of his chest so whoever it is believes he’s asleep. And it is Michael. Luke knows for sure now. He recognizes the sound of him breathing. For a minute, Michael just stands there. Luke can’t see him so he doesn’t know for sure, but he thinks Michael is watching him – maybe trying to gauge whether Luke’s feigning sleep or not. Luke panics, needing so badly for Michael to believe he’s still unconscious because if he figures it out, Luke will have to explain _why_ he’s pretending to be asleep and he doesn’t have anything close to a good reason.  
  
After a few pain-staking minutes, Michael moves again. He shuffles around the room for a short while and then he leaves, and Luke holds his breath and listens as hard as he can, catching the faint sounds of Michael opening and closing the front door, the scrape of the lock the final proof that he’s gone. Luke exhales and turns his face into the pillow and crumbles – tears prickling behind his eyes that he refuses to let fall because he has no right to be upset about this when it’s his own damn fault. Michael’s the one who should be upset, and now he’s gone because Luke was too cowardly to face him and he wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.  
  
Luke lies in bed for most of the day. He didn’t drink nearly enough to feel as hungover as he does, which means it isn’t just the ghost of alcohol making his body incapable of doing anything but lying still and trying not to die. He doesn’t know where the other guys are. He’s not sure Calum or Ashton even came home last night – the house has been quiet since Michael left. Michael’s been gone for hours and Luke is glad for it and scared by it at the same time. He doesn’t want to have to deal with what happened, but he doesn’t know where Michael would even go for this long. Luke imagines him sitting alone in the back of a McDonald’s, hood up so he won’t be spotted, just loitering so he doesn’t have to come back and face up to Luke and what they did. Luke really, really needs Michael to be okay with what happened. He needs Michael to shrug it off and say they were drunk and reckless and it didn’t mean anything. Because if Michael’s freaking out, then it _did_ mean something, and Luke’s not prepared for that.  
  
Someone finally comes home late in the afternoon, and a loud giggle as the door opens means it’s Ashton. After a moment, Luke hears Calum’s voice too. He hadn’t thought of it until just now, but he has no idea how he’s going to explain this to them – that he doesn’t know where Michael is, that things are going to be weird between them whenever Michael comes back. Luke can’t tell them what really happened, not without making it _way_ too real, but he doesn’t know what to tell them instead. He runs through a few quick lies in his still-throbbing head but none of them sound remotely believable.  
  
The bedroom door bursts open, and Ashton’s loud voice asks, “Dude, why are you still in bed?”  
  
The sudden noise feels like someone just smacked Luke over the head with a frying pan like in a cartoon, and he groans and drags a pillow over his ear. He’s also painfully aware of the fact that he’s naked and covered in dried come, and if Ashton decides to just tear the sheet away for no reason, which has _happened_ before, then he’ll know and Luke will be screwed.  
  
“Are you sick or something?” Ashton asks; softer now, concerned.  
  
“Hungover,” Luke mumbles, figuring honesty is really his only option.  
  
Ashton laughs a little, but it sounds sympathetic. “Fuck. Sorry, man. What did you and Michael get up to last night?”  
  
It’s such an innocent, innocuous question, but it makes Luke’s stomach clench into a tangle of uncomfortable butterflies. “Drinking.”  
  
“Said Captain Obvious.”  
  
“Is that Luke?” Calum’s voice asks. “Is he dead?”  
  
“Yes,” Luke answers.  
  
“Epic hangover,” Ashton tells him. “Watch out for tigers.”  
  
“Where’s Michael?” Calum asks, chuckling. “Should we check the roof?”  
  
“I don’t know. Can you stop talking now please?” Luke pulls the pillow tighter over his head but it doesn’t muffle their voices enough to stop his head from pounding.  
  
“Wait, really? You actually don’t know?”  
  
“He wasn’t here when I woke up,” Luke lies. “So, no. I don’t know where he is.”  
  
“Did you text him or anything?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Are you being serious right now? You two got pissed last night and when you woke up Michael was gone, and you just did nothing?” Ashton’s voice sounds closer, like he’s leaning right over Luke, attempting to work out why Luke hasn’t been trying to track their friend down. “What if something happened to him?”  
  
It’s physically painful for Luke to grind out, “I’m a dick. Okay? I know I am, and I’m sorry. But if you keep making so much noise I swear I’m going to puke on you.”  
  
Ashton mumbles something under his breath that Luke doesn’t catch, and then he leaves.  
  
“Can I get you anything? Water?” Calum asks, his voice really soft on purpose, and Luke feels like shit because they’re both such good friends and he doesn’t deserve them right now. Or maybe ever again.  
  
“No,” he answers, and Calum pats his ankle gently and then he’s gone too.  
  
Luke listens to them outside, the faint sounds of them talking worriedly and then Ashton in a one-sided conversation that Luke assumes is with Michael on the phone. So at least he’s okay – physically, anyway. Emotionally he’s probably as wrecked as Luke, and the thought hurts more than anything.  
  
Their voices get further away, and Luke falls asleep again. When he wakes up the second time, he feels a little bit better. The room doesn’t spin when he opens his eyes, and his headache is mostly gone. There’s chatter in the kitchen, and Luke drags himself out of bed and pulls some clothes on, intending to find his friends and apologize, until he hears Michael’s voice. He stiffens and that panicky feeling comes back, overtaking his body in thick waves of heat. He forces himself to keep moving anyway, because they’re friends and they’re a band and he can’t hide from this in the bedroom forever, as much as he’d like to. Maybe it will all be okay. Maybe Michael will want to pretend it didn’t happen as much as Luke does.  
  
Michael and Calum are sitting at the table and Ashton is hovering over something boiling on the stove, and they all look up when Luke enters the room.  
  
“Morning, sunshine,” Calum says with a smile. “You gonna live?”  
  
“Still touch-and-go,” Luke answers. “Sorry I was a jerk earlier,” he adds, directing the apology mostly at Ashton.  
  
Ashton waves a hand at him to say it’s alright. “No worries, mate.”  
  
Luke sits down with them at the table, and finally allows himself to make eye contact with Michael. His hair is messier than usual and there are dark circles under his eyes, but all in all he looks less worse-for-wear than Luke feels. He sort of smiles at Luke, shy and uncertain like he’s silently asking if they are okay. Luke tries to smile back, he _really_ does, but doesn’t manage it at all. He watches as Michael’s smile slips away and his face slowly falls, and then he excuses himself in a quiet, sad voice and disappears off in the direction of the bathroom.  
  
It breaks Luke’s heart into a million pieces.  
  
Calum frowns. “What’s up with him?”  
  
“Um.” Luke fidgets uncomfortably and wracks his brain again for an excuse. “We kinda had a bit of a fight last night.”  
  
Ashton turns around with raised eyebrows. “You what?”  
  
“It wasn’t … it’s not a big deal. We got drunk and said some things we shouldn’t have. It’ll blow over.”  
  
“Is that why he took off this morning?” Calum asks.  
  
“You’d have to ask him.”  
  
“We did.”  
  
“What did he say?”  
  
“That he wanted to be alone for a few hours.”  
  
Luke shrugs and picks at the tattered sleeve of his sweater. “I guess he wanted to be alone, then.”  
  
He chances a glance up at them, and they’re both frowning at him. Ashton shakes his head slowly. “There’s something you’re not telling us.”  
  
“No, there isn’t,” Luke sighs. “I just … like I said. We got … carried away. We’ll probably be pissed at each other for a day, and then we’ll forget it ever happened. Okay? Nothing to worry about.”  
  
He doesn’t believe the words himself, not for a second, so he doesn’t stick around to see if Calum or Ashton believe them either. He leaves the kitchen and flops down on the couch, tugging a blanket over himself and turning the TV on, flicking channels until Zoolander comes on. He can still hear the others, back in the kitchen, whispering. Luke assumes they’re whispering about him, so he jacks up the volume and tries to let Ben Stiller take his mind off everything.  
  
*           *           *  
  
Luke dances around him for three days, and it’s agonizing. Michael gets it. He understands why Luke’s uncomfortable, regretful, angry. He just wishes he could take back the whole thing. He would’ve rather lived the rest of his life never having Luke in that way than what they’re stuck with now. And he would’ve rather lived the rest of his life never knowing how much he _wants_ Luke in that way. Michael was happy, living in his little bubble of denial over how he feels. And then Luke’s lips were on his and Luke’s skin was under his fingers and now Michael can never un-know what those things feel like.  
  
He can never go back to being blissfully ignorant to the fact that he is completely in love with his best friend.  
  
Before that night, sure, Michael liked him. But it’s wasn’t like that. He likes anybody, everybody. Luke is the best friend he’s ever had, and he’s so talented and his eyes are so blue and it’s so cute how he smiles with his whole face, and Michael had always had this dumb fantasy in which they had a friends-with-benefits type deal where they messed around but it never meant anything. They already can’t seem to keep their hands off each other, they already cuddle in front of the TV and share a bed more often than not and warm their noses against each other’s necks when the air-conditioning in hotel rooms chills their skin. Michael always thought they could kiss sometimes, touch a little, make each other come, and just have it be something they do together behind closed doors but never really talk about. More like friends helping each other out than boyfriends or something that requires a definition. It seemed so easy in his head, like it was something that could actually exist without complications. And he’s an idiot.  
  
Of course it wouldn’t work like that. Friends don’t just start putting hands on each other’s dicks and act like it’s as meaningless as borrowing a t-shirt. Michael doesn’t know what he was thinking. Casual sex has never been Luke’s thing, and it isn’t entirely Michael’s thing either but it _really_ isn’t Luke’s thing. When Luke commits, he commits hard, and Michael should have remembered that before he let his mind wander into daydreams of sucking Luke off every now and then and being informal about it.  
  
He was wrong about Luke, and he was wrong about himself. He was wrong thinking _he_ wanted it to be casual. Completely, entirely, dead wrong. His brain does this thing sometimes, where it doesn’t let him completely understand how he feels or what he thinks about something right away. Like it’s protecting him from something he isn’t ready for yet. Michael doesn’t know if that’s what happened this time, or if he just didn’t realize it because he’s never slowed down enough to think about it that hard. And when the realization hits, it hits like a ton of bricks and it knocks Michael off his feet and rewrites everything he thought he knew about … everything.  
  
All those things he thought, about how he wanted to be casually sexual with Luke sometimes and not have it mean anything? Wrong. And the thought that after he and Luke messed around they could just go back to being best friends like nothing has changed? Also wrong. Two for two. Michael feels so fucking stupid he wants to put himself in a time-out for a month. He doesn’t want to be friends with Luke. He doesn’t want benefits with Luke. He just wants Luke. All of him. He wants to take Luke home to his parents and have dinner with him on Valentine’s Day and kiss the bridge of his nose before they go to sleep. Wants to love him, cuddle him, fuck him, be boyfriends with him.  
  
He doesn’t know where this information has been hiding for the last two years, because he’s sure it was there all along even if he didn’t know it. It had to be. The things that Michael feels for Luke are not something that could have developed overnight. They’re the kind of feelings that slow-burn, that start out really small and grow quietly until they get big enough to take over.  
  
Nothing is the same. Michael was so dumb to think it would be. He can’t just go on, business as usual, with the things he knows now. He can’t see Luke put a spoon to his mouth without remembering how soft Luke’s lips are, how warm and desperate they were against Michael’s. He can’t hear Luke in the shower without wondering if he’s jerking himself off; can picture it perfectly because he’s seen it all. He can’t listen to Luke talk without remembering the other noises that voice can make – the needy little moans and gasps when his cock was against Michael’s. He can’t watch Luke walk around their house in his skinny jeans without wanting to rip them off. He can’t notice Luke’s collar bone peeking out from under a loose shirt without the taste of the sweat he licked off it ghosting across his tongue.  
  
Michael wants every bit of him, and if how awkward things have become between them is any indication, Luke doesn’t want him back.  
  
Calum and Ashton aren’t helping either, with how they’re sort of hovering around both of them, trying to put their group back together while at the same time adamant about pretending nothing has gone wrong. Michael doesn’t even know what – if anything – Luke told them about what happened, so he feels nearly as strained with Cal and Ash as he does with Luke; constantly in a state of wondering what they do and don’t know about him now but too scared to ask. It’s broken all four of them a little bit and eventually Michael decides he needs to fix it, even if Luke doesn’t want to.  
  
He finds Luke outside, sitting beside the pool with his jeans rolled up and his bare feet in the water. He’s hunched over, his palms braced on the edge. Even from behind he just looks … sad. Deflated. Michael hates that he’s the reason Luke looks like that, when usually he’s so bubbly he’s uncontainable.  
  
Michael walks up to him and sits next to him, and tries to ignore how much it hurts that Luke flinches a little when he sees who’s joining him.  
  
“Hey,” Michael says softly. He tucks his hands under his thighs to keep his socked feet out of the water.  
  
“Hi.”  
  
Michael swallows. It feels like starting a conversation with a person he’s never spoken to before – not someone he’s known for most of his life and loved for years.  
  
“Where’s Calum and Ashton?” Luke asks quietly, staring down at his toes through the clear water.  
  
“Target.” He swallows again and his throat feels swollen. “Figured … we should talk. While they’re gone.”  
  
“I’m so sorry, Michael,” Luke breathes, the words tumbling out of his mouth all at once. “I can’t believe I did that to you, I’m such a – you must hate me now.”  
  
Michael blinks, confused. “I – what?”  
  
Luke finally looks up at him, his blue eyes glassy like he’s holding in tears. “I shouldn’t have … and now everything’s …”  
  
He doesn’t need to finish either sentence for Michael to know what he means, and Michael feels so stupid for thinking Luke was mad at him. He should have known Luke wouldn’t be. Of _course_ Luke wouldn’t be mad, because he’s Luke and he’s the sweetest person on the planet so of course he would just be sitting out here worrying that he hurt Michael. It makes him love Luke more. It makes everything so much worse.  
  
“I came out here to tell _you_ I’m sorry,” Michael tells him.  
  
“Why would you be sorry?”  
  
“Because I thought it was my fault.”  
  
Luke shakes his head and looks away again. “I’m pretty sure it’s mine.”  
  
“So it’s no one’s fault, then,” Michael decides. He can do this. If it means getting Luke back, he can pretend he regrets what they did. He can pretend not to be in love. He’s almost sure of it. “We screwed up. People get drunk and accidentally have sex with each other all the time, right? It’s not life-ruining.”  
  
“I guess.”  
  
“We gotta stop being weird around each other, okay?”  
  
“You’re not mad at me?” Luke asks, those damn sad cartoon eyes turned back in Michael’s direction, and his stomach flips.  
  
He throws an arm over Luke’s shoulders, and his feet hit the water and his socks get wet and he doesn’t care. Luke shuffles in closer immediately, like he was waiting for permission to do it, and pushes his face into Michael’s neck. Michael wraps both arms around him and hugs him tight. It hurts, more than anything, to have his arms full of what he wants so badly and can never have.  
  
“I’m not mad. I was worried you were.”  
  
Luke shakes his head, his hair tickling under Michael’s chin.  
  
“So we can just pretend this never happened?”  
  
It takes Luke a little too long to tentatively ask, “Is … that what you want?” and Michael’s confused by the question, wants to ask Luke if it’s what _he_ wants because honestly he just assumed it would be but now he’s not sure, but then the door opens behind them and punctures the moment.  
  
Fast footsteps approach them and then there’s a body flying above their heads as Calum jumps over them into the pool. When he hits the water he’s only a foot in front of Michael’s knees and the splash soaks them both. Michael sees it coming but can’t recoil away quickly enough to avoid it.  
  
“Hey!” Luke yells, laughing loudly and shaking his wet hands. “Dick.”  
  
“You’re the in splash zone!” Calum tells him with an enormous, pleased-with-himself sort of smile.  
  
Luke kicks at him, and Calum grabs him by the ankle and drags him all the way into the pool, fully clothed and swearing. Michael laughs, and so does Ashton as he joins them outside.  
  
“Don’t be surprised if I wake you up tomorrow by dumping a bucket of toilet water on your head,” Luke says, shoving at Calum playfully.  
  
Calum laughs and dunks Luke’s head under the water, and then swims away while Luke chases him.  
  
Ashton sits beside Michael and bumps his shoulder. “You guys good now?”  
  
Michael nods. “I think so.”  
  
It isn’t really a lie. Michael and Luke are good. Michael on his own, isn’t. But he can fake it.  
  
“Do we ever get to know what you were fighting about?”  
  
Michael pauses, still not really knowing what Luke told them as a cover and not wanting to blow it. “It … it doesn’t matter. It was stupid anyway.”  
  
Ashton nods. “Fair enough. Can I push you in the pool?”  
  
Michael glares at him. “I will never speak to you again if you do.”  
  
Ashton giggles, his eyes sparkling. “Okay fine. Party pooper.”  
  
He gets up and cannonballs himself into the pool, intentionally sending another giant wave in Michael’s direction, and Michael flips him off as he swims off to help Calum, who’s either trying to tickle Luke or murder him, Michael can’t quite tell.  
  
“If any of you idiots drown I’m not giving you CPR,” he informs them.  
  
“Three-fourths of 5sos die in underwater tickle fight,” Calum says, spreading his hands out in front of his face like he’s reading the headline of a newspaper.  
  
“The punk-ist way to go,” Michael muses.  
  
“I do what I want I’m punk rock!” all three of his band-mates quote loudly at the same time, and Calum adds, “No you’re not, you have pink hair!”  
  
Michael simultaneously wants to snuggle them all and beat them over the head with a baseball bat. “It’s not pink anymore!”  
  
“Would you just get in here?” Ashton demands. “If we’re gonna die in our pool we have to do it together!”  
  
“No!” Michael answers.  
  
“Come on,” Luke whines, dragging out the second word. “We’re banding. We can’t do it without you.”  
  
“There’s no way this qualifies as banding!” Michael protests, but then he sighs and gives in. He pushes himself off the pavement and slips into the pool, his baggy shirt flowing around him like a cape. The expressions on his friends’ faces suggest Michael just did something significantly more amazing than jump into a pool, and Michael loves them, and hates them, and mostly loves them. They pull him into an awkward, wet, four-way hug when he gets to them, and Michael’s still not convinced this won’t end in somebody needing emergency mouth-to-mouth, but the way Luke smiles at him is too nice so Michael just goes with it. He hasn’t seen Luke smile in three days. Whatever his insane friends want to do is fine with Michael if it means he gets those dimples back.  
  
*           *           *


	2. Chapter 2

Luke tries to have things go back to normal with Michael. He really, honestly tries. He tries not to act like he’s uncomfortable, he tries to make the same jokes, to touch him as much as he used to – carefully not more or less – to just act like he would have acted last week before this happened. It doesn’t really work. It’s off, between them, in a way that probably wouldn’t be that noticeable to anyone else because they’re both working hard to hide it, but something has slipped out of place. What was once easy banter feels forced, and Luke finds himself caught between wanting to spend too much time with Michael, over-compensating for the awkwardness, and wanting to spend _no_ time with him, because he can’t get what they did out of his head.  
  
It takes a day or two for Luke to work out that what he’s feeling isn’t quite regret. It should be, but it isn’t. He can lie to himself all he wants but it doesn’t make the truth go away – that he liked it. What happened. He liked kissing Michael and touching him and being with him without clothes. He liked it more than anything he’s had with anyone else – and that isn’t a whole lot of other somethings, but even still. Luke tries to tell himself it’s just because it felt good, because stuff like that always feels good. It feels good when Luke touches _himself_ , and he’s never been worried he might secretly be gay for his right hand. But it was different, if he’s honest. It felt more than physical. He also tries to tell himself it was just the alcohol, but the truth is, yeah he was drunk, but he wasn’t _that_ drunk. He remembers every second of it, so he wasn’t drunk enough to blame it entirely on the whiskey Michael was pouring down his throat.  
  
He can’t blame anything or anyone but himself. He kissed Michael, not the other way around. Michael didn’t stop it, but Luke started it. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t want to. The realization is terrifying, because it means so many things that Luke isn’t at all prepared to deal with. He starts avoiding Michael, avoiding all of them really, because he’s never been a good liar and he’s so scared they’ll see it on his face. He’s scared he’ll look into Michael’s big, green eyes and just start crying. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was never part of his plan. And he has no idea how to handle it.  
  
“Do you wanna tell me what’s up with you?” Calum asks him one day, while they’re both in the kitchen and Michael and Ashton aren’t within earshot.  
  
Luke pretends he doesn’t know what Calum’s talking about. He’s not sure he could actually talk about this with Calum even if he wanted to. If he tried, probably he would just open his mouth and no words would come out.  
  
“You think we haven’t noticed? You’re all … I don’t know. Not yourself lately. I haven’t heard you say more than twenty words in like two days. Usually we can’t get you to shut up.”  
  
Luke shrugs. He puts coffee on for something to do with his hands and so he doesn’t have to look at Calum, not because he’s actually planning on drinking it. “I’m okay,” he lies. It doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest.  
  
“It this because of what happened that night with Michael?” Calum pushes. “Because you’ve both been weird since then, even after I thought you made up. Did he say something to you? Do I need to go kick his ass?”  
  
“No,” Luke says quietly. Calum is a better friend than he deserves. “He didn’t, it’s … this isn’t his fault. It’s mine.”  
  
“ _What_ is?”  
  
It’s on the tip of Luke’s tongue to tell him, to spill his guts out right there in the kitchen for anyone to stomp all over, but then he loses his nerve all at once. He can’t. If he says it out loud, it will be real. “I can’t,” he mumbles, a hot, embarrassed flush running through his body as he turns tail and leaves the room.  
  
He dreams about Michael that night. There are grabbing hands and tongues on heated skin and pleasure-soaked moans, and Luke wakes up drenched in sweat with his heart racing. He blinks into the darkness, turned on and terrified, and rolls onto his side to muffle the sound when tears spill from his eyes.  
  
“Luke? Are you okay?” Michael’s voice asks softly, from the doorway, but Luke squeezes his eyes shut and doesn’t answer. He must have been moaning, Michael must have heard him and assumed he was having a nightmare. If he only knew how completely wrong he is about that.  
  
Luke wants Michael to climb into the bed behind him, wrap him up and hug him until Luke feels like he can breath properly again. When they were in London, if Luke was ever homesick or stressed or sad, a half hour in Michael’s arms always made him feel better when nothing else could. And now, when he needs Michael’s comforting touch the most, Michael is the last person in the world Luke can ask for it. The door creaks closed after a minute and soft footsteps get smaller as they get further away, and Luke lets out the breath he’d been holding.  
  
He squirms, trying to get comfortable, trying to think about football, toast, anything that isn’t sexual so his stupid dick will calm down and let him go back to sleep, but it’s useless. He grabs it and jerks it, too hard to feel nice, makes himself come in minutes with his face pushed into the pillow to stifle the grunt he can’t hold back. Luke wants Michael there to kiss him after. Then he wants to jump in front of a train. An orgasm has never felt so terrible before.  
  
*           *           *  
  
Michael watches his friends in the pool, from the windows on the second floor. He feels like a creep, but it lets him observe Luke from a distance and think. He isn’t into the pool as much as the others are. He doesn’t like the way he looks without a shirt, especially compared to his stupid, handsome bandmates – all of them tanned and broad-shouldered. If Michael looked like Calum, he’d be naked all the time too. But he doesn’t.  
  
Luke is beautiful, and it sucks. The way he yells, splashes, plays around. Michael can hear his laugh even from inside, loud and bright and sparkly. Then Ashton’s manic giggles make Michael smile through his melancholy, but only for a moment. Luke climbs out of the water, strong and streamlined like an athlete, and then cannonballs back in, and it’s nothing new at all. Michael’s been watching him for years, out of the corners of his eyes. Always looking out for him, looking after him, like he promised Liz he’d keep doing after she wasn’t around anymore. Luke was so quiet, once upon a time, and Michael wanted to protect him from a world that isn’t always so nice to shy boys with blue eyes and reckless optimism. But lately he’s been watching him in a different way. Everything Luke does now reminds Michael of things he shouldn’t be thinking about. Everything he says is cute, even the dumb things. Every bit of him, day in and day out, just makes Michael want him more.  
  
What Michael’s currently spying on is a rare moment of happiness for Luke these days. He’s trying to hide it, but most of the time failing. Michael can see the way he’s just crumbling, getting worse day after day, and he hates himself for it so much it makes him want to throw himself off a cliff. He did this, he broke his best friend. Luke used to be loud and silly and so happy all the time it was almost annoying, and now most of the time he’s quiet and withdrawn. He wanders around the house some days just looking _lost_ , and it makes Michael feel sick.  
  
The worst part is, it doesn’t stop Michael from lusting after him. It doesn’t stop his fingers from itching to run through Luke’s hair, it doesn’t make it easier to imagine how good it would feel to kiss all that pain away.  
  
Since he figured out how he feels, it’s like his mind has been playing catch-up on the last few years, his emotions scanning through everything he’s felt for Luke over the years and introducing them to his brain in quick succession. All the moments in their history when his heart loved something Luke did or said but his brain didn’t notice. It feels like falling for him in fast-forward. There’s nothing about Luke he isn’t so in love with it’s painful. His face, his hair, the way he sings off-key in the shower, the growth-spurt that left him a head taller than anyone else, his talent, the way he lights up when he’s on stage, his loyalty, how he’s a big pile of giggles and cuddles and goofing-off but at the same time is more serious about the band than any of them. He’s perfect for Michael in every possible way, and Michael can’t have him.  
  
Then, on top of everything else, there’s what he’s done to the band. It used to be the most comfortable thing in the world, the four of them together, goofing off and teasing and laughing so much most days Michael goes to sleep with sore abs. Michael spent most of his childhood feeling isolated, like he never quite fit in, and it wasn’t until he stop hating Luke and they all got together that he finally felt he could just be himself. It was like being set free, getting to let his true self shine through and knowing they would love him anyway. He owes so much to the three of them, and now he’s let them down in the worst way possible.  
  
They used to work so well together, writing and recording and playing shows and spending every minute fighting for this dream they’ve had for so long that’s finally coming true. It happened because they did it together, and if what he and Luke did means things will never go back to the way they were before, Michael doesn’t know what any of them are going to do. Calum and Ashton have been waiting, patiently, for everything to flip back to normal, and Michael wants it to but he doesn’t know if it can. He’s so, so scared it never will. That this will ruin them, everything they’ve worked for.  
  
He’s never falling in love again. He doesn’t know why people ever do it in the first place. It just hurts.  
  
After a week, he can’t take it anymore. It’s eating him up inside, keeping all these feelings in, not being able to talk about them. He wants to tell Luke how he feels so damn badly – Michael’s never been one for hiding his emotions or keeping secrets from people who are important to him. But he can’t tell Luke, because Luke doesn’t feel the same way, and if their one night together has undone Luke this much, finding out Michael is in love with him would just end him altogether. He wouldn’t be able to exist in the same room as Michael anymore, and Michael would die.  
  
He needs to tell _someone_ , though, before the ache in his chest starts burning holes in his skin. He settles on Ashton, because he’s older and he’s the most grown-up of all of them, in more ways than just physical age. He gives good advice, and he’s always so honest with them, about anything. He never judges. It makes Michael feel like he’ll listen, and maybe it will actually be okay. Maybe Michael can actually do it, admit how he feels, and Ashton will just pat his back and sympathize and then maybe help him get over it.  
  
*           *           *  
  
Luke walks into the living room, his socks sliding over the slippery floor. The backs of Ashton and Michael’s heads are just barely visible above the top of the couch from where they’re sitting on the floor in front of it, backs to the cushions.  
  
“How … um. How long have you …?” Ashton’s voice is asking.  
  
“I don’t know,” Michael’s voice mumbles. “A really long time, I think.”  
  
Luke frowns. He was about to hop over the back of the couch and join them, but now he stops short. Something is wrong. There’s something in their voices. Ashton sounds uncomfortable, Michael sounds embarrassed and sad, and Luke doesn’t understand what that means.  
  
“Like since school?”  
  
“Maybe.” There’s a pause, like he’s thinking it over, and then he adds, “Probably.”  
  
“Shit, Michael,” Ashton breathes.  
  
“I know. It’s so screwed up.” He sounds miserable and Luke aches to hug him even though he still doesn’t know what they’re talking about. He’s about to ask, or at least say something to make his presence known because they haven’t noticed him, are faced away from him, and he feels like he’s spying. Then Ashton speaks again before he can.  
  
“Are you gonna tell him?”  
  
Michael squirms a little, flexing his shoulders. “Um. Something kinda … happened. Already.”  
  
Luke frowns deeper and his heart races a little because they _can’t_ be talking about what it’s starting to sound like they’re talking about. No, they aren’t. It wouldn’t make sense.  
  
“Something like what?” Ashton asks, slowly.  
  
“Like, you know. We did … stuff.”  
  
The word _no_ is running on a loop through Luke’s head. This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening. Luke still hasn’t managed to fully figure out how _he_ feels about what happened between them, whether he’s even okay with the fact that he kind of sort of maybe has a crush on Michael that he didn’t think Michael reciprocated. He’s nowhere near ready for anyone else to know.  
  
“Are you serious? Is this what all that was about, before?” Ashton sounds almost annoyed about it. “You guys got drunk and fucked and now it’s weird?”  
  
“It’s not …” Michael sighs and rubs his hands over his hair. “I don’t know what to do.”  
  
“Okay, but do you just like, have a crush on him? Like something that might go away? Or do you _like him_ like him?”  
  
“I think maybe I love him,” Michael whispers.  
  
Luke’s heart stops and his head spins and everything slows down like the moment before a car crash in a movie. Surreal, spiraling, time inching by and everyone can see disaster approaching but no one can stop it. This might be what dying feels like.  
  
Then the front door creaks open and slams closed, Calum’s voice calls out, “What’s up, bitches?” and before Luke can even get his brain into escape mode, Ashton and Michael are turning around to address Calum and getting hit with an unexpected eyeful of Luke, standing there, eavesdropping on their conversation about how he and Michael did things and now it’s weird because Michael might be in love with him.  
  
Michael looks terrified. Ashton looks indignant. And Luke feels like he’s going to throw up.  
  
“Hey guys, I …” Calum begins, entering the room and letting the sentence fall away as he takes in the three of them staring at each other like cowboys about to duel. “Uh … what’s going on?”  
  
Luke’s brain doesn’t know how to form thoughts that aren’t _shit_.  
  
“Guys? Hello?” Calum tries again.  
  
Michael stands up and turns away from them, walks a few steps and then stops, covering his face with his hands and groaning quietly.  
  
“Welcome home, Cal,” Ashton says finally, his jaw clenched. “Michael was just telling me about how he and Luke got drunk and had sex that night we stayed at Jack’s.”  
  
Calum just stares at him, trying to work out if he’s joking or not. Luke’s face feels like it’s on fire.  
  
“Oh, and, apparently, Michael loves him, and Luke was just back there listening to the whole fucking thing and probably the band is ruined now because there’s no way it will ever _not_ be weird between us ever again.”  
  
The accuracy of that statement makes Luke feel like crying. This is exactly what he was so scared of, exactly why he was so reluctant to even let himself consider the possibility of having feelings for Michael.  
  
Calum is looking back and forth between them, his head swiveling like he’s watching a tennis match, and Luke can’t meet his gaze. He can’t look directly at anyone. He feels like his skin doesn’t belong to him anymore.  
  
“Is this … are you being for real right now?” Calum asks. “Luke?”  
  
“I … I didn’t know,” Luke rasps, finally finding his voice even if it comes out weak and scratchy. “We were drunk, we … it was a mistake. We both said it was a mistake. I didn’t know he …”  
  
“Fuck,” Michael mutters from the corner.  
  
“Yeah, that about sums it up,” Ashton snaps.  
  
“Are you gay?” Calum asks Michael.  
  
“Well if he’s in love with Luke, he’s gay enough!” Ashton answers.  
  
In the midst of what’s maybe the worst moment of his life, Luke still manages to feel offended on behalf of Michael. “Dude, that’s not – if it’s who he is, then –”  
  
“Don’t do that,” Ashton interrupts. “Don’t make it seem like that’s what this is about. I don’t care if he’s gay. Fuck guys, girls, both, whatever! Fuck blow-up dolls if you want, I don’t care! I care because he fucked _you_!”  
  
“He didn’t!” Luke protests, his voice coming out in a high, embarrassed squeak. The way Ashton says it makes what they did sound dirty and wrong and Luke hates it because he’s so scared that’s exactly what it was. “We didn’t, it wasn’t … like that.”  
  
“That’s not the point!”  
  
Michael groans again and drops down onto the couch. He looks like he wishes he was anywhere else in the galaxy right now than where he is. Luke knows how it feels.  
  
“This is serious!” Calum says loudly, getting upset, and it makes Luke’s heart race. They’ve never fought before. He doesn’t know how to handle this. “We’re supposed to be a band! Our whole thing works because we’re _friends_.”  
  
“The three of you fucking cuddle too much,” Ashton mutters, his expression turned dark as well. “I fucking should’ve known this was gonna happen.”  
  
“What if this starts affecting our shit?” Calum asks. “Like what if he can’t be around you anymore? What the fuck then?”  
  
“Why do I have to have an answer for that?” Luke cries. “This isn’t my fault!”  
  
“You’re one of only two people who were there, so it’s at least half your fault!”  
  
“We can just pretend this never happened, okay?” Luke pleads. He doesn’t believe it, and neither does anyone else.  
  
“Can we?” Calum challenges. “Do you even want to? Do you like him back?”  
  
“I … I don’t …” Luke stammers. He can’t answer the question. It scares him right down to his core, in actuality, but he’s not going to say that either.  
  
“Alright, bottom line? This could ruin _everything_ ,” Ashton snarls, suddenly madder than Luke’s ever seen him. “Look, if Michael wants to be gay then that’s fine. That’s great. But if the two of you start doing – _whatever_ … everything we have, everything we’ve worked so _fucking_ hard for. We could lose it all! Do you _get_ that? What the hell do you think is gonna happen when management finds out?”  
  
“He is jeopardizing our career, our future, everything, like Ash said,” Calum adds, counting off on his fingers all the things he thinks Michael is going to ruin.  
  
Michael makes a tiny, muffled noise, like he’s trying to hold in a sob. Luke realizes he hasn’t actually looked directly at Michael since everyone started yelling, but he looks over now. Michael is curled in on himself, his arms wrapped protectively around his own stomach, and there are tears streaming down his face. It makes Luke’s heart ache. And it breaks something inside him, and he’s so fucking done with this conversation.  
  
“Okay. That’s enough.”  
  
“We have to figure this out!” Ashton says, but Luke just glares at him.  
  
“I said that’s enough, and I fucking mean it. Look what you’re doing to him!”  
  
Ashton looks confused for a second but then his eyes flick over to Michael, and Luke watches on his face as Ashton realizes they’ve gone too far. His whole face crumples, and he looks disgusted with himself. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Michael, I … I didn’t mean that.”  
  
“Didn’t mean what,” Michael mutters, not meeting anyone’s eyes or looking like he actually wants an answer to the question.  
  
Calum’s eyes are wide and he’s glancing back and forth between all of them like he’s afraid they’re going to explode, but he doesn’t speak. Ashton rubs his hands over his face, pushes his hair back, and walks slowly over to the couch where Michael’s still crying silently. Always the most mature of all of them, he sits next to him and puts his arm around Michael’s shoulders, hand rubbing slowly over the top of his arm.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he says softly; genuinely. “I really am. We’re jerks.”  
  
Michael doesn’t answer, and his eyes stay glued to a spot on the floor near his feet. He looks both devastated and like he hates himself for it, and Luke really wishes Calum and Ashton would leave. Suddenly he has never needed anything more than to be in Michael’s lap; to make all that sadness go away.  
  
“We … we’re still gonna have to figure this out,” Ashton continues, being careful about it. He leans in and gives Michael a sideways, one-armed hug. “But we love you, alright? For exactly who you are. Whatever that is.”  
  
Michael sniffs and manages a small nod. Ashton ruffles his hair fondly and then lets go of him and stands. He exchanges a look with Calum, speaking silent words with their eyes, and Calum says, “We’ll give you guys some time.”  
  
Luke’s grateful for it, although he doesn’t say that out loud. He loves them, he really does. And he understands why they’re upset, and knows they didn’t mean to hurt Michael. But they _did_ hurt him, and right now Luke just doesn’t want them here. They gather up their wallets and keys and put shoes on and then they’re gone, and Luke lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. For a moment, he doesn’t move. He’s unsure, of what to do and what to say and even what to _feel_. Michael’s admission still feels fresh and raw and it’s messing with Luke’s head. Making him wonder things. It scares him.  
  
Then another small, sad sound escapes from Michael, and suddenly it’s all simple again. He’s hurting, and Luke loves him, so everything else doesn’t matter. He sits, putting himself in Michael’s space, pressed up against his side, and runs one hand through Michael’s soft hair.  
  
“M’sorry,” Michael mumbles, sounding ashamed.  
  
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Luke tells him.  
  
Michael shakes his head, big, sad tears still spilling from his red-rimmed eyes. “I fucked everything up. They’re right.”  
  
“No, you didn’t.” He tries to pull Michael in closer, his arms feeling way too empty, but Michael stiffens. He doesn’t move when Luke tugs at him, and Luke whispers, “Please?”  
  
“Don’t.” Michael breathes the word, and it’s maybe the worst sound Luke’s ever heard.  
  
“Cuddle?” he asks in a baby voice, recycling an old joke, and thankfully Michael laughs. It’s wet because he’s crying, but it’s a laugh. That one is maybe the _best_ sound Luke’s ever heard.  
  
Michael gives in, leaning into Luke and pushing his damp face against Luke’s neck. Luke wraps him up, and closes his eyes and just breathes in the smell of Michael’s hair and soaks up the feel of him. He’s warm and familiar and it makes Luke feel just a little better. He’s always been happiest with Michael this close. He’s just never had to wonder whether he shouldn’t be.  
  
“Is it weird now?” Michael asks quietly. “Because of …”  
  
“No,” Luke answers honestly. “Feels the same.”  
  
Michael doesn’t respond, so Luke doesn’t know if he’s pleased with the answer.  
  
“Do you … um. Wanna tell me about it? What you … feel?”  
  
Michael sighs unsteadily; Luke notices how his shoulders shake. “It’s not gonna gross you out?”  
  
“No. Mikey … no. No way,” Luke promises. He can feel anxiety and insecurity coming off Michael like waves and he wants those emotions to leave and never come back. His own discomfort gets shoved aside in his need to make his friend feel better. “I’m not grossed out. _You_ are not gross. You’re just … Michael. You’re the same as you’ve always been.”  
  
It’s a minute before Michael replies. When he does, his voice is small and scared. “I’m sorry. Everything’s all broken now and it’s my fault.”  
  
“Please don’t be sorry,” Luke murmurs. “Shit, if anything, I’m the one who should be sorry. Why didn’t you tell me this before? When we talked about what happened?”  
  
“You wanted to forget it.”  
  
Luke doesn’t answer because it’s burning in his chest to say he _doesn’t_ want to forget it, but he can’t. He can’t do this, he can’t be this person who just feels what he feels and doesn’t mind if people talk. He isn’t as brave as Michael.  
  
“I know you don’t feel the same way,” Michael says, so Luke won’t have to. He’s considerate even when he’s shattered inside, and it makes Luke hate himself. He wants to tell Michael that isn’t entirely true, but he’s a coward and he doesn’t. “I don’t … I’ll get over it. I swear I will. It just might take some time.”  
  
“It’s okay. We’re okay.” Luke wants to believe it. He wants it to be true. It isn’t, though. He isn’t okay. With how Michael feels, with how confused it makes him, with the thought that this could so easily tear them apart and make it so they can’t even be friends anymore. He’s not okay with losing Michael, but he’s not okay with having him either. Not like that. Even if all he’s been able to think of lately is what it would be like. If Michael would hold him all night long, even when it gets too hot, because he’s clingy like that. If he would kiss Luke awake with soft pecks to his closed eyelids. If he’d take Luke’s hand in public and not care what people think.  
  
Suddenly Luke’s skin is itchy underneath and his clothes don’t feel right. He’s sweaty and uncomfortable with how good it feels having Michael pressed up against him. It isn’t _supposed_ to feel like this. Luke doesn’t know why he never realized that until just now. This thing they do, where they’re always in each other’s space, always touching, always wrapped around each other – it’s how Luke should be with a girl. Not his best friend.  
  
“I … um.” He loosens his grip on Michael, and thankfully Michael gets it.  
  
He sits up, rubbing his face and not looking at Luke. “Yeah. I’m gonna …”  
  
He waves a hand in front of his chest, like he’s trying to think of some excuse to leave, and then he gives up and just leaves without one. He heads upstairs, and Luke watches him go, blinking back tears.


	3. Chapter 3

Luke is in the kitchen, sipping coffee and quietly trying not to melt into a full existential crisis, when the door opens and closes, maybe thirty minutes after Michael disappeared upstairs, and his friends find him.  
  
“Hey,” Ashton says, glancing around, looking for Michael. “Is he …?”  
  
“Bedroom,” Luke answers. Ashton looks like a kicked puppy, and Calum doesn’t look much better, and Luke isn’t angry with them anymore. He’s too mixed up in his own head to have any room for feelings about their fight.  
  
“I feel like such a dick.” Ashton leans against the kitchen counter and sighs.  
  
“Me too,” Calum agrees, sitting at the table.  
  
“I’m the worst friend in the world,” Ashton continues, sighing again and then groaning a little in frustration. “He _came_ to me, he was trying to talk to me about what happened and what he was going through and I just got mad at him for it. There seriously has never been a bigger jerk than me.”  
  
Luke thinks that’s maybe a little over-dramatic, but he doesn’t say so.  
  
“Did you talk?” Calum asks.  
  
Luke nods. “He’s worried you guys are right, that he’s gonna fuck up the band.”  
  
Ashton swears under his breath. “I shouldn’t’ve said that. It didn’t come out the way I meant it.”  
  
“So go tell him that.”  
  
Ashton nods and goes, clapping Luke on the shoulder on his way past.  
  
“D’you … uh. Like him back?” Calum asks, timid about it, like he thinks it’ll make Luke mad.  
  
Luke presses his lips together and occupies the spot Ashton just vacated, his ass resting against the countertop. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at the floor. “I … I don’t know,” he answers. It’s the truth, and it’s hard enough to even admit that much. “My head is a mess.”  
  
“I didn’t think you were into guys.”  
  
“I’m not.” That’s the truth too. “I’m really not, I just …”  
  
“Singular same-sex attraction?” Calum quips, and it’s his way of lightening the mood but it makes Luke squirm.  
  
“Do we have to talk about this?”  
  
“No. Not if you don’t want to.”  
  
Luke nods and doesn’t respond.  
  
Calum is only silent for a moment before he says, “I’m not _totally_ surprised, I guess. You guys have always been … you know? I thought you were just close, I thought … I don’t know what I thought. I thought you were just like the rest of us. But you’re not. The way I feel about you, and Michael and Ash, I mean, I love you guys. But it’s not the same, as the way Michael looks at you.”  
  
Luke feels the tips of his ears heat up. Calum’s words make him kind of happy, and kind of uncomfortable, and a whole lot of confused. He wonders if that’s always been true, about Michael. If he’s always felt things for Luke that the rest of them don’t feel for each other. If Luke was the only one who never noticed, if he didn’t _want_ to notice because it scared him.  
  
“And sometimes you … look back,” Calum adds.  
  
Luke lifts his head to frown at his friend. “I do?”  
  
“Sometimes.”  
  
“How could I do that without knowing I’m doing it?”  
  
“I don’t know. You do, though. You two get all fond over each other sometimes. It’s gross.” Calum makes a face to communicate he isn’t serious about that last comment. “So maybe you do. Like him.”  
  
Luke sighs again and digs the heels of his palms into his closed eyes. “I can’t deal with this right now.”  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“It’s not your fault.”  
  
“Okay.” Calum stands up. “Well if … you know. You ever do wanna deal with it. I’m here, okay?”  
  
“Yeah. Thanks.”  
  
“I gotta go tell Michael I’m sorry for being a douche.”  
  
“Yeah,” Luke says again, watching Calum go and not getting any closer to having his head properly around the situation and what the hell he’s going to do about it.  
  
He heads up the stairs after a few minutes, arriving in time to hear the tail end of Michael groaning and demanding Calum and Ashton get off him. They’re all on Michael’s bed when Luke steps into the doorway, Michael in the middle and the other two hugging him obnoxiously from either side.  
  
“Nope. We love you, and you’re never getting rid of us,” Ashton tells him.  
  
Luke chuckles. “Are you guys good?”  
  
“If I say yes will you stop slobbering on my neck?” Michael asks, shooting a dirty look in Calum’s direction.  
  
“Probably not,” Calum answers, while Ashton giggles and joins in the fun – nuzzling into Michael’s cheek and licking his ear.  
  
“I seriously hate you guys,” Michael grumbles, and none of them believe him for a second.  
  
“Band cuddle!” Luke yells, bouncing into the room and diving onto the pile, sending them all horizontal and getting someone’s elbow painfully in his side.  
  
They tussle and then settle, and Ashton starts chatting about something Spongebob related but Luke isn’t really listening. He ended up in the middle with Michael, and they’re all on top of each other and in each other’s space but when Michael smiles unsurely at him somehow it still feels intimate, secretive. Calum drapes his arm over Luke’s ribs, spooning him from behind, while Michael moves in close and tucks his head under Luke’s chin, and only one feels like it means something. Luke tends to snuggle up against anyone who’ll let him, but all the times he’s done it with Calum, it never feels like it does with Michael. There’s no good explanation for why Luke never quite noticed that until just now. He’s got them on either side of him, and it’s like he can finally compare the two because he’s never had both at the same time before. They’re like scales, tipping back and forth as he weighs them against each other and then falling decidedly in Michael’s direction.  
  
Luke is so damn done for.  
  
He cups his hand around the back of Michael’s neck and closes his eyes, continuing to not listen fully to whatever Ashton’s talking about and trying earnestly not to think about how good Michael’s hair smells.  
  
*           *           *  
  
Eventually it becomes too much. The thoughts get too tangled up in Luke’s head and he can’t figure out how he feels because it’s like trying to navigate through a mess of tangled vines. He needs to talk to someone who isn’t involved, someone with a clear head who can help steer him in the right direction. The only person he can think of is his mum. He isn’t thrilled at the idea of telling her about this. He’s always been able to talk to her about anything, but this feels … different. She’s his mother, the existence of sex is something they should just both quietly be aware of but never actually discuss. But Luke doesn’t know who else to go to. His family is all he has, other than the band, and Calum and Ashton are too close to the situation. He also doesn’t feel right talking with them about Michael. It feels like going behind Michael’s back; they’re his friends too.  
  
He does some quick time-zone calculations in his head and waits for a time when it’ll be mid-morning in Sydney, when he knows she’ll probably be at home. He spends twenty minutes giving himself an internal pep-talk before he dials the number, and he manages to get to a place where he’s confident he can do this. He can tell her what happened, what’s still happening. And then she answers, an enthusiastic, “Hi baby!” and Luke falls apart.  
  
He can’t do this. He can’t do it at all.  
  
“Mum,” he whines, sounding pitiful.  
  
“Honey, what’s wrong?” Liz asks, concern and worry in her voice and Luke crumbles even more.  
  
He sinks onto the bed, tipping his head back onto the pillow and closing his eyes, grateful the others aren’t home right now so he can break properly and not worry about being caught.  
  
“Luke,” she tries again, all soft and comforting this time. “Talk to me.”  
  
“Something happened.”  
  
“What did? Is somebody hurt?”  
  
Luke shakes his head, and then realizes she can’t see it through the phone, thousands of miles away from him. She’s so, so far away right now, and Luke aches for her to hug him. “No. No, it’s … I did something. Something really bad, and now everything’s all messed up.”  
  
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it can be fixed.”  
  
“What if it can’t?” That’s what Luke is afraid of the most. That this one thing, this one tiny moment in his life, is going to make it so nothing will ever go back to the way it was.  
  
“Things can always be fixed. Tell me what happened.”  
  
Luke takes a deep breath, shuddery from the tears he hadn’t realized were spilling from his eyes. His heart races because he’s so damn scared to tell her, but he makes himself say it. “I … me and Michael.”  
  
“Oh,” Liz says softly, like she knows what he’s going to say before he says it. Like maybe she was expecting this to happen, like maybe she saw something between them, when she was with them all the time. It makes Luke feels so stupid again, that he was the only one who never noticed.  
  
“Yeah. And now everything’s broken and I don’t … Mum, I don’t know what to do.”  
  
“What exactly happened?”  
  
Luke shifts uncomfortably and wrinkles his nose, really not wanting to go into details. It’s too embarrassing, even if he was talking about a girl. “We kissed. And … stuff. But we were drunk, it wasn’t …”  
  
“Did you talk to him about it?”  
  
“We both said it was an accident. But then I found out he thinks he’s in love with me and I’m …” Luke swallows and a few more tears spill down his cheeks. “I’m really …”  
  
“I’m sorry, baby,” Liz murmurs. “I wish I could be there to hug you.”  
  
“Me too,” Luke whispers.  
  
“What are you going to do?”  
  
“I … I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel, it’s all jumbled up in my head, and I just … maybe, I might … what if I love him back?” The admission takes even Luke by surprise. He doesn’t remember his brain telling his mouth to form those words. They just spilt out on their own, and now they exist and Luke can’t take them back. He isn’t sure if he _wants_ to take them back, but he couldn’t. If he did want to. It’s terrifying, and suddenly Luke understands exactly how Michael must feel.  
  
Liz pauses, like she’s confused. “Wait, but if you love him back, what’s the problem?”  
  
“ _That’s_ the problem.”  
  
“Honey, that’s not a problem! I thought you were telling me he has feelings for you and you don’t feel the same. If you love him too, just go tell him that.”  
  
“I _can’t_.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because …” Luke presses his lips together and squeezes his eyes shut tight. His face burns with shame he wishes he didn’t feel and fears he wishes he didn’t have. “Because what then? We couldn’t just be together and have it be that easy. We’re a band, we can’t … it would be weird. It would change things for everyone, not just me and him. It would affect Calum and Ashton too.”  
  
“Don’t you think your friends would be happy for you?  
  
“But then we’d have to tell people, and I’d have to be …”  
  
“Someone who likes boys?” she finishes, and Luke squirms again. He really hates himself for how uncomfortable that makes him. He wishes he could just accept it, like Michael does. Michael’s considered himself bisexual since before Luke was even friends with him, and he’s always just worn it on his sleeve like a badge – like it’s who he is and fuck whoever has a problem with it. To Luke, the idea of people knowing he likes another guy is horrifying. He’d love to be fearless, like Michael, but he isn’t.  
  
“What would Jack and Ben say?”  
  
“Don’t be silly. They’re your brothers. Who you love doesn’t change who you are, Lukey. You’re still you. We would all love you exactly the same as we do now.”  
  
Luke just sniffs and keeps his eyes closed and doesn’t answer.  
  
“Look. Baby, I know, alright? It’s still strange for me to think of you as a celebrity, but you are one, and that’s mixed up in all this. I know it wouldn’t be as simple as two people deciding to be together and that’s that. I know there are so many more things at play because of what you do, who you are. But the thing is, we don’t get a lot of chances to be loved by someone in this world. If you walk away from this, you might be walking away from something that could make you both so happy. I know it’s scary. But don’t you think it might be worth it?”  
  
“What if it isn’t?”  
  
She makes a soft clicking noise, and Luke can picture her smiling, exasperated and fond. “Now, where’s my brave little boy who left everything he’s ever known behind and moved across the world to chase his dreams? None of you knew for sure you’d make it. You just believed in yourselves and each other and you took a risk.”  
  
“That’s not the same.”  
  
“Of course it is,” Liz says matter-of-factly, in way that makes Luke want to believe her. “It took enormous courage to do what you did. Stop all of this self-doubt. If he’s who you’re supposed to be with, everything else will work itself out. Believe in yourself, and believe in Michael, and just take a chance.”  
  
Chatting with her helps, but at the same time makes Luke even more confused. It makes him aware that it shouldn’t be so complex, this love business. He always thought he’d just meet someone and fall in love and that would be that, and then Michael came along and made everything complicated because he’s a boy and because he’s in Luke’s band and because the way Luke feels about him is way too intense not to be dangerous. The idea of just telling Michael how he feels, it all sounds so simple when his mum says it. Luke wishes so much it _could_ be.  
  
“Do you think it’s possible we’ve been in love with each other for years and I never knew it?” he asks Calum, hours later when it’s just the two of them on Calum’s bed.  
  
“Maybe,” Calum says quietly.  
  
“Why was I so blind to all of this? I mean, if Michael knew, and you knew, and my freakin’ _mum_ knew, where the hell was I?”  
  
“Maybe you did know. Maybe it was just too scary to consider.”  
  
Luke slumps down against the headboard, mirroring Calum’s position, and resting his head on Calum’s shoulder. “Is it gonna be weird if I’m gay?” he asks, a little waver of nerves and discomfort in his voice.  
  
“No.” Calum rubs his thigh. “Are you?”  
  
Luke shrugs and feels pathetic. “Not sure yet.”  
  
“That’s okay too, you know. You don’t have to decide anything about yourself just because Michael’s already got it all figured.”  
  
He pulls his arm out from under Luke and wraps it around his shoulders, and Luke curls into him gratefully.  
  
*           *           *  
  
Michael can’t remember the last time he watched the sun rise. He might never have done it. He’s seen it set plenty of times, but this early in the morning, he’s either still sleeping, or just crashing into bed, too exhausted to pay any attention to the colors the sky turns. He watches it now, alone in a lounge chair next to the pool, with a beanie pulled over his unwashed hair and a blanket tugged around his shoulders because it’s chilly out before the sun comes up. The light cover of clouds goes pink and orange and then purple, and it’s prettier than Michael would have guessed. Or maybe he’s just getting sappy.  
  
The screen door opens behind him, and Michael turns, surprised. He wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up for at least a few hours. They’re doing a radio show today, but not until later. It’s Ashton, in shorts and an old sweater, with bed-head and two mugs in his hands. He struggles to close the door with his ass, and Michael chuckles at him.  
  
“You could help,” Ashton points out.  
  
“I’m comfy.”  
  
Ashton does get the door closed, and then he walks over and hands one of the mugs to Michael. He takes it and groans his appreciation. Coffee has maybe never smelled so good. Then Ashton gets another chair and drags it over, setting it up next to Michael’s and curling up in it.  
  
“What’re you doing up so early?” Michael asks.  
  
Ashton giggles. “Dude, that’s like … a whale asking a dolphin why he’s so big. I don’t think you’ve ever been up this early in your _life_.”  
  
Michael smiles and takes a sip from the mug Ashton brought him. The warm, bitter liquid slips down his throat and warms him up inside. “Couldn’t sleep, I guess. Gave up trying eventually.”  
  
Ashton nods. “You … uh. Wanna talk about it?”  
  
“Talk about what?”  
  
“The reason you’re not sleeping.”  
  
“Maybe I need to exercise more.”  
  
Ashton elbows him gently. “C’mon. For real.”  
  
“Why do you want me to talk about it?” Michael swallows over a lump growing in his throat.  
  
“Because I was a really shitty friend last time, when you tried to.” Ashton sighs and stares out into the sky, where the sun is peeking half over the horizon and now turning the sky around it a dark navy.  
  
“You already apologized for that.”  
  
“I still wanna make it up to you. I wanna listen this time.”  
  
Michael presses his lips together and stares into the light brown liquid in the mug he’s holding between his hands. “Not sure what there is to say. Things are fucked up, but I don’t know what to do about it.”  
  
“You really love him, huh?” Ashton asks gently, sympathetically, and it unhinges something in Michael.  
  
“Yeah,” he breathes, his eyes burning. “So fucking much, Ash. What m’I supposed do?”  
  
There’s a soft clink that sounds like Ashton setting his mug on the ground, and then he takes the one from Michael’s hands and does the same. He scooches his chair closer so it’s against Michaels, and wraps his arm around Michael’s shoulders. He pulls Michael into his arms, and Michael goes, unable to help himself. He leans into Ashton’s chest, his head on Ashton’s shoulder, and slams his eyes shut to keep the tears inside.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Ashton murmurs, resting his chin on the top of Michael’s head and hugging him tight. “This must suck so bad.”  
  
“I ruined everything,” Michael mumbles. “Not just me and Luke. You guys too. Everything’s all weird now, like you said.”  
  
“I shouldn’t have said that.”  
  
“But it’s the truth. What if we can’t get past this? What if we have to break up because of this and it’s all my fault?”  
  
“Nobody’s breaking up,” Ashton promises. “You really think you can get rid of us that easy?”  
  
“It’s not easy,” Michael argues. “This is a big deal. Better bands than us have broken up over less.”  
  
“If they did, it’s their own fault for not caring enough to fight.” Ashton squeezes him a little, like an extra hug inside a hug. “Everything we’ve been through together? All the damn mountains we had to climb to get where we are? It would take a lot more than this to make us fall apart. You guys are my family. I’ll cling to you like a friggin’ starfish if I have to. No one’s going anywhere.”  
  
Michael laughs in spite of himself, and Ashton does too. “Do starfish cling hard?”  
  
“I don’t know. Or whatever. Something that latches on and never lets go.”  
  
“Herpes?” Michael suggests, and Ashton dissolves into giggles.  
  
“Yes. Perfect. I’ll cling to you like Herpes.”  
  
“We gotta turn that into a song.”  
  
“Ewwww. Worst love song ever.” Ashton tugs at the blanket around Michael’s shoulders. “Gimme some of this. It’s cold out here.”  
  
Michael leans forward enough to dislodge the blanket from behind his back and drapes it over both of them, and then settles back against Ashton’s chest. They watch together as the sun gets higher and slowly bathes everything in low morning light, Ashton absently drawing circles on Michael’s arm with his fingers. Michael doesn’t usually cuddle one-on-one with anyone but Luke, but it’s nice. It’s different. With Luke it’s always cozy and familiar, like sinking into his bed at home in Sydney. With Ashton it’s just quiet and nice but in a pleasantly surprising way – maybe because they don’t do it often. It makes him feel just a little better to know Ashton isn’t mad at him – that he’d be willing to fight to keep the band together, if it came to that. Even though he really hopes it won’t.  
  
*           *           *  
  
It takes a few days for the right circumstances to arise – for Luke to find a moment when Calum and Ashton are together, but far enough away from Michael so he can talk to them. Finally it happens; Ashton and Calum head outside in swimsuits and Michael goes to the bedroom with his laptop because he loves video games and sorta hates the sun like some sort of nerd-vampire crossover and Luke finds it a whole lot cuter than he’d ever be willing to admit. He waits until the bedroom door is closed and he can hear Michael chatting into the headset, and then he follows the others out to the backyard.  
  
Calum and Ashton are in the hot tub, and Luke pulls a chair up next to it, because the threat of a blush is already crawling up his neck at the thought of telling them what he’s about to tell them and he doesn’t need boiling water adding to his rising temperature.  
  
“Couldn’t convince Michael to join us?” Calum asks.  
  
Luke shrugs. “I didn’t try. Not like it would have done any good.”  
  
Ashton chuckles fondly. “He fails at being Australian. Even though this is only a man-made beach.”  
  
Luke laughs. He tips his head back to watch the clouds, turned orange in the setting sun, and mostly tunes out whatever the others are talking about for a few minutes. Then, when there’s a lull in their conversation, Luke lifts his head back up and clears his throat. “Can I talk to you guys about something?”  
  
Calum flicks water in the direction of Luke’s bare foot. “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”  
  
“Something else.”  
  
“Sounds serious.” Ashton raises an eyebrow at him, and waits.  
  
“If … um.” Luke still wishes he could just be confident about all this. He’s getting better, the notion of talking to them about it at all is improvement, but he’s still not quite there yet. “If Michael and I did become … something. What would you guys … I don’t know. What would you think? Would that be okay?”  
  
Ashton frowns and exchanges a look with Calum. “Do you like him? I thought …”  
  
Luke wants to run away from the question like he’s been doing for weeks, but he doesn’t. He finds whatever courage he does have, and answers, “Yeah. I do.”  
  
He watches his friends’ faces as they process the information. Only Ashton looks surprised – because Luke more-or-less told Calum the other day – and they both look like they’re trying to wrap their heads around all the _what ifs_ that Luke’s been fighting with.  
  
“Why are you … I mean, if you guys wanna be together, you don’t really need our permission,” Calum points out. “I know we said all that stuff, but at the end of the day it’s your decision.”  
  
“It’s not about permission,” Luke says. “It’s that I know this would affect you guys too. It isn’t just me and him. We’re a group, so it’s all of us. I wanna know what you think. For real.”  
  
“You guys aren’t gonna be all gross and romantic all the time now, are you?” Ashton asks, with a wrinkled nose.  
  
Luke smiles a little. “I doubt it.”  
  
“It would just suck if this … I don’t know, changed things. Like, how we are with each other.” Ashton runs a wet hand over his curls and looks apologetic.  
  
“Like how we’re kinda four-way married?” Luke suggests, and Ashton laughs.  
  
“Yeah. That. I really like that. I don’t want it messed up.”  
  
“It’s the last thing I wanna do, honestly,” Luke promises. “I love our thing. I don’t want it to be different.”  
  
“Okay. So we just won’t let it be different,” Ashton decides with a shrug, like it’s as easy as that. Luke hopes he’s right.  
  
“But what about, like …” He blushes and drops his eyes down to his knees. He really wishes he didn’t have to bring this up, but it’s going to come up in the future anyway so he might as well just get it out now. “Like when we’re doing, ‘yknow. Stuff. Isn’t that gonna be weird? For all of us? That you two will know and we’ll _know_ you know?”  
  
Neither answer for a moment, and when Luke chances a look back up, they’re both grinning at him like idiots.  
  
“Aww,” Ashton coos. “So cute when he tries to talk about grown-up things.”  
  
“Shut up,” Luke mumbles, blushing deeper. He’s sure he’s bright red, and it’s not making things better.  
  
They crack up, so Luke can laugh a little too, at his own expense. He can’t help that he’s not quite comfortable talking about sex yet, even with his friends.  
  
“It’ll be … I don’t know. An adjustment I guess. I feel like we can probably get past it.” Ashton shrugs again.  
  
“What does Michael think?” Calum asks.  
  
“I haven’t talked to him yet,” Luke says. “I wanted to talk to you guys first. ‘Cause I mean it, if you have a problem with this, we won’t do it. The band comes first.”  
  
“So he’s in there right now still thinking you don’t like him back?”  
  
“I guess so, yeah.”  
  
Calum’s eyes widen. “Dude! Go! Go right now! What the hell are you waiting for?”  
  
Luke is slightly taken aback. “You – really?”  
  
“There’s some things we’re gonna have to figure out. But yeah, we can do that. Seriously, go. He’s been moping around here for two weeks because he thinks you’ll never love him back, it’s been pitiful. Go tell him he’s wrong before I do it for you.” Calum holds up a hand when Luke doesn’t immediately jump out of his chair. “I’m gonna splash you if you don’t.”  
  
That _does_ make Luke jump up, and just in time because Ashton decides to splash him anyway and Luke moves just quickly enough to avoid it.  
  
*           *           *


	4. Chapter 4

There’s a soft knock on the door and then it opens, and Luke pokes his head in.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Michael shoots him a quick smile and returns the greeting while trying to keep concentrating on not losing as terribly as he is. It doesn’t really work. Luke is distracting these days even when he’s not trying to be. It’s his ocean-blue eyes and all that ridiculous hair and his cute, shy little smile and how he manages to look like sex on two legs in the same kind of clothes that make Michael look like a delinquent. It’s just _him_ , and it’s colossally unfair that Michael has to be this close to him all the time and can’t have him. He’s starting to turn bitter about it.  
  
“How long till you’re done?”  
  
“Like any second,” Michael answers, rolling his eyes a little. “We’re getting destroyed.”  
  
“Kay.” Luke enters the room and closes the door behind him, and climbs onto the bed. He sits cross-legged, folding his hands in his lap, and Michael can smell him.  
  
“Seriously?” a voice asks, annoyed, through the headset as Michael makes a series of rookie mistakes because he can’t get Luke out of his head.  
  
“Sorry, fuck,” he mutters. “I’m done, guys. Sorry.”  
  
“You’re leaving?” another voice asks.  
  
“We’re gonna lose anyway,” Michael points out, and he doesn’t stick around to hear how mad they are. He just takes the headset off and shuts his laptop.  
  
He turns to Luke, who’s fiddling with his hands and watching him apprehensively. “You didn’t need to do that. I would’ve waited.”  
  
“It’s a game. It doesn’t matter. What’s up?”  
  
“Um.” Luke presses his lips together, and then chews at his lip-ring. He looks nervous, and it’s hotter than it has any right to be. “Could we go for a walk?”  
  
Michael frowns. “I … okay. Why?”  
  
“Just wanna talk. About some stuff. Without anyone else barging in.”  
  
Now Michael is apprehensive. He nods and follows Luke out of the house, but his stomach is churning and his mind is running through all sorts of terrible possibilities. They range from Luke having been diagnosed with some kind of terminal illness, to Luke planning on starting to date a girl he met some time in the last few weeks while Michael’s been avoiding him. He’s sort of not sure which one would be worse.  
  
So far, their neighbors have been cool about not plastering their address all over the internet so the chances of running into a mob of screaming girls is slim, but they avoid busier streets all the same, preferring to stay in their own suburb. Luke doesn’t talk for a while, and Michael feels sicker by the moment but he waits for Luke to speak first. If Michael starts talking himself, crazy things might start pouring out of his mouth and he might not be able to stop.  
  
“So, um.” Luke begins eventually. “I don’t really know how to say this without sound like an idiot, so I’m just gonna say it and sound like an idiot.”  
  
“Oh, God,” slips from between Michael’s lips, completely beyond his control. This is it, he can feel it. Luke is going to say it’s gotten too uncomfortable to be around Michael, knowing how he feels, what he wants. He’s going to say he can’t do it anymore. In about five seconds those words are going to be spoken and Michael will have officially ruined everything.  
  
Luke looks at him. Then he frowns and shakes his head. “No. It’s … it’s good. At least, I think it is.”  
  
Michael’s confused again, and he really needs Luke to just spit it out because the waiting is killing him.  
  
“I … uh.” Luke looks flustered. He tries again, but can’t seem to get the words out. Instead, he takes Michael’s hand, in a way that feels almost … romantic. Michael can’t breathe. “C’mere,” Luke says, leading Michael off the street and into a back alleyway.  
  
He puts Michael against the wall, and then sort of leans into him, and Michael doesn’t know what’s happening for just a second but then Luke’s lips touch his and everything spins so quickly out of control it feels like being shoved off a cliff. Luke’s mouth is as soft as Michael remembers, but tentative this time, like he’s afraid Michael isn’t going to kiss back. As if Michael could help himself. He wraps his arms around Luke’s waist and pulls him in closer without thinking about it, deepening the kiss. He can’t believe this is really happening, can’t wrap his head around why or how, but he just goes with it because Luke is back in his arms, kissing him, nudging a foot between Michael’s to get closer, and Michael’s so happy he wants to cry and scream and run around in circles.  
  
Luke’s lips fall away from Michael’s eventually, with a soft, breathy, nervous laugh that might be the most beautiful sound Michael’s ever heard. He blinks a few times before he can get his hazy vision to focus on Luke’s face. His eyes are bright and his cheeks are flushed and his lips are shiny with Michael’s saliva.  
  
“Hi,” he whispers, like he doesn’t know what else to say.  
  
“Hey,” Michael answers, reaching up slowly and tracing his thumb over the moisture on Luke’s bottom lip.  
  
“Hi or hey,” Luke jokes awkwardly, and the giggle that erupts from Michael’s throat is entirely unmanly and he doesn’t care.  
  
“You’re such a dork.”  
  
“You love me.”  
  
“Yeah,” Michael admits. “I do.”  
  
“I do too. Love you, I mean. Not me,” Luke says softly, conspiratorially, like it’s a secret he only feels safe revealing into the space between their bodies.  
  
Michael blinks at him, his stomach doing flip-flips over itself. “Really?” he asks, and doesn’t at all manage to be cool about it. He almost doesn’t dare to believe it, just in case. It would ruin him to think he’s getting Luke and then have it taken away again.  
  
Luke nods. He slides his fingers through Michael’s hair, trailing them down the back of Michael’s head and then letting his hand settle curled around the back of Michael’s neck. He squeezes gently, and tips his own head forward so his forehead is resting against Michael’s.  
  
“What about … everything?” Michael asks. “The guys, the band. All that stuff.”  
  
“I don’t know. I don’t have a plan, I don’t … all I know is how I feel,” Luke murmurs. “There’s some stuff we’ll have to deal with. Maybe some stuff we haven’t even thought of. But I just … I’m done pretending I don’t love you. I do, so. The only thing I was doing is hurting both of us.”  
  
Michael shakes his head slowly, forehead rubbing against Luke’s, and wants to pinch himself to make sure this is really happening.  
  
Luke lets his lips drag against Michael’s, almost another kiss, and then adds, “I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I’m sorry you had to feel … alone.”  
  
“It sucked,” Michael says honestly, and Luke winces, and then he feels bad. “No, I mean … it’s okay. It wasn’t fun, but I understand.”  
  
“I’m still sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be.”  
  
Luke kisses him again, gentle and apologetic, and Michael melts into it. He forgets that they’re hiding in an alley next to a dumpster, he forgets that this is going to be complicated because of what they do. He forgets everything that isn’t the feeling of Luke’s tongue asking for entrance to his mouth, Luke’s whole body pressing into his, Luke’s dick starting to harden against Michael’s hip.  
  
Michael laughs breathlessly. “I can’t believe this is real. Wish I could touch you.”  
  
“You are touching me.”  
  
“I mean _this_.” He pushes his thigh forward into Luke’s crotch to illustrate his meaning.  
  
“Oh.” Luke blushes and takes a shuddery breath, like he’s halfway between embarrassed and aroused, and it makes Michael’s head spin. “Wanna, um, go back? Do … something?”  
  
Michael quirks an eyebrow and asks, “Like what?” just to watch Luke’s cute, flustered face.  
  
“I don’t know. What do you want?”  
  
“Anything. Everything,” Michael answers honestly. It almost scares him, how much he means it. “Every single thing there is.”  
  
“Me too.”  
  
*           *           *  
  
Luke understands why they can’t, but he wishes Michael could hold his hand as they walk. It would’ve calmed his racing heart a little; just some contact, to know Michael’s there with him. He wants Michael so damn much, all of him, every piece of him, but that doesn’t stop Luke from being nervous about it. Not about whatever they’re going to do, but about crossing that line into something more. They won’t be able to take it back this time, to pretend that it was a mistake. Luke doesn’t want to do either of those things, but it still feels … important. It feels bigger than the two of them.  
  
The house is dark and empty when they get back to it. Luke wonders where their friends went for a moment, but then notices the note on the table. He picks it up and reads _Have fun boys!_ in Calum’s handwriting. _Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do_ is crossed out, and Ashton’s messy scrawl corrects, _Do lots and lots of things we wouldn’t do. We wouldn’t do any of the things you’re about to do._ Calum answers, _Says you_. and adds a crude drawing of a dick.  
  
Luke chuckles, and shows the note to Michael.  
  
“Well Calum wants a gang-bang,” Michael says, with a laugh.  
  
Luke laughs too. He drops the piece of paper back down onto the table, and exhales shakily. They have the house to themselves, and he wants so many things with Michael that he doesn’t even know where to start. He wants it all, and he wants it all way too much.  
  
“Are you okay?” Michael asks softly.  
  
Luke nods, but probably doesn’t come off convincing.  
  
Michael moves into him, wraps his arms around Luke and pulls him in close. Luke leans against him, resting his head on Michael’s shoulder, and even though he’s taller, he feels small in Michael’s arms.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Michael whispers, kissing the side of Luke’s face.  
  
“Nervous,” Luke admits shamefully.  
  
“We don’t have to do anything tonight.”  
  
“No, I … I want it. Want you.”  
  
“I want you too.”  
  
“It just feels _big_ , you know?”  
  
“I know.” Michael pecks another kiss to Luke’s cheek and then nudges his head up to kiss him properly. He takes Luke’s hand and leads him upstairs, and Luke follows willingly. He’s completely okay with Michael being in the driver’s seat right now. He’s had more time to get his head around this than Luke has – if it’s true, what he said to Ashton, about having feelings for Luke since school. That thought makes Luke ache inside over how hard it must’ve been for Michael, and how mad he is at himself for taking so long to figure everything out. Now that he has, it feels easy. Of course he loves Michael. He doesn’t understand why he hasn’t known this since the minute they meant.  
  
Michael shuts the door behind them, and looks at Luke, and then laughs a little and sounds as nervous as Luke is, which makes him feel a little better. He reaches behind himself to tug his shirt off over his head, and is met with raised eyebrows from Michael.  
  
“What?” he asks defensively.  
  
“You move quick,” Michael teases.  
  
Luke blushes. “Are we not gonna …?”  
  
Michael steps closer to him and takes the shirt from his hands, tossing it to the floor. He leans up and presses a kiss to Luke’s lips. “Yeah, we’re gonna.”  
  
He sounds entirely too pleased with himself so Luke shuts him up with another kiss, wrapping his arms around Michael’s waist and sliding their lips together. He slips his fingers under Michael’s loose shirt as they kiss, sliding his hand around to Michael’s stomach, pushing the shirt up with his wrist.  
  
“Off,” he mumbles, and Michael sort of hesitates for half a second but then he lifts his arms and lets Luke pull the material over his head.  
  
“Can we, um. Turn the lights off?” Michael asks, fidgeting and crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
Luke frowns. “If you want.”  
  
Michael reaches for the switch, bathing the room in darkness it takes Luke’s eyes a few blinks to adjust to, and then he pushes Luke back onto the bed before he starts unzipping his jeans. Luke wriggles out of his pants while Michael does the same, and then Michael joins him on the bed, nudging Luke back and lying beside him. He goes for another kiss, but Luke stops him, running his fingers over Michael’s cheek and searching his eyes.  
  
“What?” Michael asks.  
  
“You don’t like the way you look?” Luke says, his brain finally piecing a bunch of things together when Michael wanted the lights off. Michael hardly ever swims with them.  
  
Michael huffs, and then shrugs. “I’m not all sexy like you are,” he answers, poking Luke in the ribs, making it into a joke.  
  
“You are,” Luke promises him. It’s unfathomable to him that Michael doesn’t understand. “You’re gorgeous, Mikey. How do you not know that?”  
  
Michael shrugs again and looks uncomfortable.  
  
“I’m gonna keep telling you that until you believe it.”  
  
Michael tries to kiss him again, not wanting to talk about it maybe, and this time Luke lets him, but he drops the subject only temporarily. Making Michael understand how beautiful he is just became Luke’s new life goal. They kiss lazily, desperation growing in a slow, steady burn. Luke is already addicted to it. He can already tell he’s going to hate whatever parts of the day are _not_ spent kissing Michael from now on.  
  
“What d’you wanna do?” Michael asks breathlessly, pulling back and looking at Luke with flushed cheeks and dark eyes.  
  
Luke thinks about it for a second, automatically reaching down between them to adjust his hard cock in his underwear, not even realizing it’s a sexual action until he notices Michael is watching.  
  
“Hot,” Michael pronounces, and Luke laughs.  
  
“That I have a boner?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Doesn’t take much for you, huh?” he jokes.  
  
“Not where you’re concerned, it doesn’t,” Michael says, not joking, and Luke thinks it’s one of the more romantic things anyone has ever said to him.  
  
He moves his hand forward because he’s curious and they didn’t do this last time – brushes his fingers gently against the stiff flesh in Michael’s underwear and then cups it and squeezes. Michael swears under his breath and rocks into Luke’s hand, and it fills Luke with a dirty, dangerous thrill. He never thought he’d be here in a million years, and now he’s on a bed with his best friend and there’s a dick in his hand that isn’t his own, and it’s scary and exciting and way too many other things for Luke to name. He’s so turned on it’s hard to see properly.  
  
He bites his lip, unsure again, and then asks, “Can I … um. Suck it?”  
  
Michael’s eyes open, and he looks at Luke like he’s a crazy person. “Are you asking? Like there’s even a chance I’ll say no?”  
  
Luke chuckles and shrugs. “Didn’t wanna just … y’know. Pounce.”  
  
“For the future? Pouncing is perfectly acceptable.”  
  
Luke laughs again, and Michael laughs with him. He moves, not wanting to give himself time to chicken out, crawling down the bed while Michael wiggles out of his underwear. Luke blinks at his hard cock, and it’s just as pretty as the rest of him, because of course it is, and Luke’s proud of himself that seeing it doesn’t freak him out. It’s hot, actually. He takes a deep breath and reaches for it, wrapping his fingers around the shaft and stroking a few times, experimentally. Michael’s on his elbows, watching, his lips parted slightly.  
  
“Um. I haven’t ever …” Luke mumbles.  
  
“I know.” Michael reaches down and slides his fingers through Luke’s hair.  
  
“So you gotta tell me. If I’m doing it wrong.”  
  
“You won’t.”  
  
“Promise me.”  
  
“Okay. Yeah, okay. I’ll tell you.”  
  
Luke nods. He tries to remember what girls have done to him, annoyed with himself that he never really paid close attention because of how good it felt. He leans down and licks tentatively at the head, and then does it again because Michael makes a breathy noise. Luke draws it into his mouth and sucks, moving his tongue around because he imagines that’ll feel nice, getting the hang of it as he goes. Michael grips his hair and moans, and Luke smiles around his mouthful, pleased with himself. It turns him on way more than he would’ve thought, making Michael feel good. He repeats whatever he’s just done when Michael moans, bobbing his head and swallowing, all the noises Michael makes and the way he grips Luke’s hair shooting straight to Luke’s cock.  
  
“Luke,” Michael mumbles, all broken and pretty about it, and Luke hums and makes Michael’s hips jerk. “Shit. Just like that, baby.”  
  
He goes for broke, letting saliva dribble down the shaft and wrapping his hand back around it for the part that won’t fit in his mouth. He stokes and squeezes and licks at him, and Michael starts pushing at his shoulder, warning. Luke ignores it. Michael grunts and come lands on Luke’s tongue, and he chokes just a little but manages to swallow it, and doesn’t hate the way it tastes. He sort of likes it, even.  
  
“Fuck,” Michael says, as Luke crawls back up to him, dropping down on the mattress beside him and propping himself up on an elbow. “I think I’m broken.”  
  
Luke laughs and is pleased with himself, even if he thinks maybe Michael is over-exaggerating a little to make him feel better about his complete lack of skill. It’s such a Michael thing to do, that Luke decides to think it’s sweet.  
  
“Can I nap for like a million hours before I do you?” Michael asks, and he sounds like he’s halfway between joking and not.  
  
“I think that’s called a coma.”  
  
Michael lets his hands fall away from his face and smiles. He pulls Luke down for a kiss, moaning at the taste of himself in Luke’s mouth and licking it out. Luke’s hips slot against Michael’s and his crotch presses into Michael’s thigh – he grinds down slowly as they kiss, the pressure sending sparks of arousal through him. Michael plants a foot on the bed and flips them over, getting up on his hands and knees over Luke and reaching down to palm his cock through the cotton of his underwear. Luke shivers, even that little bit of contact making his stomach flip. Michael kisses him a few more times, soft and brief and almost innocent, like he’s a kid trying it out and not someone who’s about to have a dick in his mouth. It kind of sums Michael up in a way that makes Luke’s chest feel funny – sweet and trusting and affectionate, with just enough of an edge to him that he always might be on the precipice of doing something dangerous, even if he rarely does.  
  
Michael tugs at Luke’s underwear, and Luke reaches down and helps get them off, grimacing a little at the sound his cock makes when it slaps against his belly. It sounds filthy, like porn, and it feels wrong for this moment.  
  
Michael ducks his head and licks over Luke’s nipples slowly, one at a time, and then makes his way down Luke’s chest, leaving little kisses as he goes. Every place his lips touch feels hot and damp, and then cold when he’s gone. He doesn’t go right for Luke’s cock, instead he nibbles at Luke’s hipbones and squeezes Luke’s balls in his hand. He rubs his middle finger into the spot behind them in a way that feels really fucking good, and Luke doesn’t know why he’s never experimented more with himself. There’s probably a whole world of things that feel fantastic, and he doesn’t know anything about them.  
  
By the time Michael gets to his erection Luke is already panting, but even then Michael doesn’t suck it straightaway. He licks at the shaft, generous laves of his tongue and little back-and-forth flicks that make Luke hot and squirmy inside.  
  
“Michael,” he breathes; not wanting anything, just needing to say something.  
  
Michael smiles and kisses the head of Luke’s cock, and then finally picks it up and takes it into his mouth, sliding down slowly so Luke sinks inside inch by inch, surrounded by warm and wet. He bobs his head so fucking slowly, his tongue moving and his cheeks hollowing and Luke hears himself moan, because it feels so damn amazing and it’s such a waste that they haven’t been doing this since school. Michael’s good at it. He seems to know what he’s doing, he isn’t fumbly and unsure like Luke was. The thought strikes a funny chord inside Luke, somewhere beneath the pleasure, and he realizes that Michael probably _does_ know what he’s doing.  
  
Michael pauses, and then lifts his head up and looks at Luke. “What?”  
  
“What what?”  
  
“You just went all tense. What’s wrong?”  
  
Luke rolls his eyes at himself. He’s the only person on the planet who could ruin a fantastic blowjob by thinking too hard about it. “You’ve … um. Done this before.”  
  
Michael frowns at him. “Did you not know that?”  
  
“I guess I thought maybe you had. Didn’t know for sure. You never said.”  
  
Michael crawls back up so he’s face to face with Luke and settles down on him, their hips aligning again. He kisses the corner of Luke’s mouth. “I guess … I wasn’t sure you guys would wanna hear about it.”  
  
That makes Luke sad, a little, to think Michael was keeping certain details of his life to himself because he wasn’t sure his band-mates would be okay with him liking boys.  
  
“Are you jealous?” Michael asks.  
  
“Yes,” Luke admits. He closes his eyes and holds Michael’s face in his hands. “I wanna be the only dick you ever do anything with.”  
  
Michael chuckles, low and rumbling. “You will be. From now on.”  
  
“Okay.” It doesn’t really make Luke feel better, but maybe he’s just stupid.  
  
“I’ve never fucked a guy,” Michael tells him.  
  
“You can fuck me,” Luke says automatically, not even thinking about it. Then a wave of arousal mixed with fear travels up his spine at the idea of following through with it.  
  
For a moment, Michael doesn’t say anything. Like maybe he’s waiting for Luke to take it back. “Have you ever? With a girl?”  
  
Luke shakes his head, and feels like he’s so far behind Michael. Behind everyone, probably. Aleisha never let him, and then they’ve been doing band stuff for so many years, Luke’s just never had the chance. “Other stuff. Just not that.”  
  
Like he can sense Luke’s embarrassment, Michael kisses him, soft and sweet, and says, “I like that. It makes you all mine.”  
  
“Have you, um. Ever _been_ …?” Luke asks, hoping Michael will know what he means.  
  
Michael shakes his head. “You wanna be my first?”  
  
It’s something Luke hadn’t even thought about, but now that Michael says it, yeah, he really wants that. It makes him shiver with how much he wants it. “Shit. Yeah. A lot.”  
  
Michael laughs again. “Good. We’ve got stuff to work up to, then. Can I finish sucking your cock now?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Michael kisses him one more time, and then goes back down and restarts, sucking and swallowing and humming around Luke’s cock.  
  
“Fuck, Michael,” spills from Luke’s mouth, and Michael just hums again and it vibrates through him, sends sparks of pleasure up and down his spine like bolts of lightening. He forces his heavy head to lift because he wants to see it, but then he can barely look because Michael is so hot, his eyes closed like he’s enjoying it as much as Luke is, cheeks stained pink and bright red lips wrapped around Luke’s cock as it disappears in and out of his mouth.  
  
Luke reaches down with a shaky hand to pet through Michael’s soft hair, and Michael opens his eyes and looks up and winks at Luke, filthy and playful, and Luke is so done. His eyes slam shut and his gut clenches and he comes into Michael’s mouth so hard he forgets how to breathe for a minute.  
  
Michael coughs ones or twice, and then laughs and flicks the inside of Luke’s thigh. “Warn a guy.”  
  
“Sorry,” Luke groans, covering his face with his hands, feeling shitty and feeling like an idiot for being so bad at this. “Fuck, Michael, I’m sorry.”  
  
“It’s okay.”  
  
Luke turns his best puppy-eyes to Michael because he still feels bad, and Michael pulls him, weak and pliant, into his arms. Luke nuzzles him and clings, always needy for contact and affection from everyone but mostly from Michael, and Michael gives him all the attention he wants. He always has.  
  
“What now?” Michael asks, his face so close to Luke’s that he can’t focus on it.  
  
“Can I hold your hand?” Luke asks, wishing he didn’t sound so childish.  
  
“Uh. Sure. Why?”  
  
Luke shrugs and tries not to be embarrassed. “‘Cause we never have, really.”  
  
“We’ve held hands lots of time. There are pictures of it,” Michael reminds him.  
  
“I know, but not … like this. This is different.”  
  
“Okay.” Michael doesn’t sound like he really understands, but he takes Luke’s hand and threads their fingers together.  
  
Luke squeezes it, testing out the feel of it, and then slowly rubs his thumb over Michael’s knuckles. He brings their joined hands to his mouth, kisses the back of Michael’s, and then lets them rest on the pillow between their throats.  
  
Michael has a funny, fond smile on his face. “I didn’t know you’d be … romantic. I should have known, I guess.”  
  
“You got a problem with it?” Luke asks, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“I love you,” Michael whispers against his lips. “Just, you know. In case you forgot.”  
  
“I didn’t,” Luke whispers back.  
  
*           *           *  
  
Something soft tickles Luke’s face. He opens his eyes slowly and realizes it’s Michael’s hair, and everything comes back to him. Michael is cuddled up against him, his head tucked under Luke’s chin, and it makes Luke smile. He squeezes Michael and then stretches, as Michael blearily mumbles something murderous about how early in the morning it is.  
  
“How do you know what time it is?” Luke asks, grinning. “It could be three.”  
  
“Too many words, Hemmings,” Michael grumbles.  
  
“Oh, so now I’m Hemmings?” Luke jokes. “Last night I was _baby_.”  
  
“Last night you were sucking my cock,” Michael points out. “So far this morning all you’ve done is wake me up too early.”  
  
Luke chuckles and pushes his nose through Michael’s hair.  
  
The door flies open, smashing into the opposite wall and startling them both. Calum and Ashton are standing in the doorway with comically raised eyebrows and huge, annoying smiles on their faces.  
  
“What the fuck?” Luke asks, grabbing for the sheet around his waist to cover them up. It’s not like they haven’t caught gratuitous eyefuls of each other before, but this feels different.  
  
“Damn, I thought we’d catch you naked,” Ashton says. Really, really loudly.  
  
“We are, dumbass,” Michael mutters. Luke is stuck halfway between mortified that Calum and Ashton are here while he’s lying nude in bed with Michael, in the sheets they stained last night, and amused at Michael because he’s such a grump in the mornings and it’s cute.  
  
“Well point those dicks at each other, because we’re coming in!” Calum announces, and then they both descend on Luke and Michael, bounding onto the bed with them and framing them like bookends, Ashton behind Luke and Calum behind Michael.  
  
“This is an entirely new level of familiar. Even for us,” Michael says flatly, but keeps right on snuggling Luke like maybe he doesn’t care as much as he’d like them to believe he does.  
  
“Why do I feel like we just jumped into a honeymoon bed?” Ashton asks, giggling.  
  
“Because duh,” Michael answers rudely.  
  
“And you didn’t even put a ring on it first, Michael,” Ashton chides jokingly.  
  
“Hey, why am I the wife?” Luke protests.  
  
“Because _duh_ ,” Michael repeats. At least he’s grumping everyone.  
  
“Who bottomed?” Calum asks, his eyes crinkled in a cheeky smile directed right at Luke, like he knows exactly how much that’s going to make him squirm.  
  
Luke groans in embarrassment at the brashness of the question and burrows down under the blankets, hiding his face in Michael’s chest.  
  
“No one. We didn’t fuck,” Michael answers, so much more confident about, really, everything. Luke is jealous of him. Also, it smells really good, pressed against Michael’s skin. Like sweat and sex and _them_. He taps his fingers against Michael’s ribs and Michael gets the message, wrapping his arms around Luke’s back and keeping him safe from their friends.  
  
“Why the hell not?”  
  
“Because I don’t put out on the first date. Or because fuck you. Take your pick.”  
  
“So _you’d_ be the one putting out,” Ashton surmises, and Michael reaches over and punches him on the arm, a little too hard to be completely joking about it.  
  
“You’re awfully cantankerous for someone who got laid last night,” Calum observes. “Is Lukey no good in bed?”  
  
“ _Stop_ ,” Luke whines. He feels like he’s still only just wrapped his head around the idea of being with a boy, with his best friend. He’s not ready for talk like this.  
  
“He’s fantastic in bed,” Michael says. “You guys should be very, very jealous. And you should also shut up about it.”  
  
Having his honor defended makes Luke feel just a little bit better.  
  
“Fine,” Ashton sighs, pretending to be exasperated. “You’re no fun. But fine. No sexy-talk. Just cuddles.”  
  
He moves in closer, spooning against Luke’s back and slipping an arm around his middle, and Luke’s glad there’s a sheet in between them because otherwise Ashton would be pressed up against his bare ass, and they don’t have a _ton_ of boundaries as a group but that feels like it should be a line that doesn’t get crossed. The mattress shifts as Calum probably does the same behind Michael, the two of them hugging Luke and Michael together like some sort of two-headed beast. It occurs to Luke that they’re sort of a four-headed beast, and he doesn’t hate the idea.  
  
“You can come up now,” Michael tells Luke, and Luke listens to him, wiggling back up so his head is on the pillow next to Michael’s. Michael shakes his head a little, conveying with his eyes a message along the lines of _our friends are morons but I love them_.  
  
Luke smiles back at him, and kisses the tip of his nose. Michael has a really cute nose.  
  
“What time do we have to be at the studio?” Calum asks.  
  
“Ten, I think,” Ashton answers, eliciting another groan from Michael.  
  
“It’s not even ten? You guys are monsters.” He turns his face into the pillow and Luke pets his cheek sympathetically.  
  
“If it was after ten we’d be late. You should be thanking us,” Calum points out.  
  
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”  
  
It’s dripping in sarcasm and Luke can’t help but laugh.  
  
“You’re the one who made a band with us, dude.” Ashton nuzzles into the back of Luke’s neck as he talks, and his nose is cold.  
  
“You’re right. This is my fault.”  
  
“What should we do until then?” Ashton asks.  
  
“This,” Calum replies. “Band cuddle.”  
  
Luke wants to point out it’s not exactly the same as when they usually do it since he and Michael are naked and covered in the remnants of what they did last night, but he stays silent. Underneath his lingering embarrassment is happiness, real and bright and wonderful. He’s got the person he loves against him and their best friends wrapped around them, and it’s weird and inappropriate probably but it’s also kind of perfect. Maybe it wouldn’t work for anyone else, but it works for them.  
  
“Love you,” he whispers to Michael, hoping it’s soft enough that only Michael will hear it, and then not sure why he thought that would actually work since Calum and Ashton both have ears within a foot of Luke’s mouth.  
  
“You said you weren’t gonna be gross,” Ashton complains.  
  
“Tell him to stop being so lovable, then,” Luke says, the words meant for Ashton but still looking at Michael.  
  
Michael kinda smiles and rolls his eyes at the same time. “Dork.”  
  
Luke sticks his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout.  
  
“Fine, I love you too,” Michael sighs, pretending to be annoyed about it.  
  
“And no one loves me,” Calum says dramatically.  
  
“No one,” Michael agrees, at the same time as Luke says, “I do.”  
  
Calum snorts. “Guess I know who my new best friend is.”  
  
“I thought I was your best friend!” Ashton cries indignantly.  
  
“Okay, everybody be quiet,” Luke instructs. “Michael is trying to sleep.”  
  
Calum and Ashton both grumble about it but they settle and then fall silent. Michael closes his eyes and snuggles just a little bit closer to Luke. It makes him smile.

*           *           *

 

thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> You're the only person who reminds me  
> Love is beautiful and true, life is beautiful  
> And you, you're the only person who reminds me  
> Hold on now, don't you blink or it's gone  
> I've been terrified of life for way too long  
> Oh no now, don't you blink or it's gone  
> In another life who knows what we'd become?  
> "Don't Blink" - Relient K (2013)
> 
>  
> 
> [follow me on tumblr if you want!](http://paper-storm.tumblr.com/)


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